


Nearing Home

by maidenstar



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fluff, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 20:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 199,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maidenstar/pseuds/maidenstar
Summary: Nicole Haught has always had a rebellious streak. Coupled with a more or less parentless childhood, there was always a chance she would get herself into serious trouble. But after she is forced to skip school too many times, things come to a head and a judge deems her parents unfit guardians. As a result, she is shipped across the country to the rural mountains of southern Alberta, as part of a ‘court-approved truancy prevention program’. Here she is to live with the judge’s personal friend, as well as his wife and nieces.Nicole is required to work on Curtis McCready’s farm and attend a new school until graduation. Her counter-plan is simple: have her best friend come and pick her up early on the day she turns eighteen, and simply remain as disinterested as possible in the meantime. After all, she has been alright on her own before now. She doesn’t need a family. But then she is welcomed in by the McCreadys and, in particular, by their niece Waverly, and life suddenly takes on a new meaning...[TheTaking FlightAU I didn't ever expect to write]
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 283
Kudos: 950





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It feels like a really long time since I've posted a multi-chapter fic, but this one has taken me some time to work on so I hope it is going to be worth the wait. 
> 
> Unsurprisingly, I've written an AU. No one is shocked, right? This time, it's based entirely on the lesbian novel _Taking Flight_ by Siera Maley. If you haven't read it, or her other books, please please please do yourself a favour and look them up. They're soooo good. 
> 
> In terms of the plot, I've followed the premises of the book very closely, then let the characters evolve as I think they would in this situation, rather than sticking to Maley's choices. They're perfect for her characters, but Nicole isn't entirely similar to the mc in the book. 
> 
> As a result of me following Maley's set-up closely, I'm working with high school stuff I know nothing about. I also always have kind of thought the whole 'sending someone across the country for missing classes' is a huge leap. Is that really something you guys in North America do? Either way, I hope you'll forgive the premise if it's inaccurate. It's all about the (eventual) fluff? Right? 
> 
> Also, I apologise that this fic is so long. I cannot help myself, truly. 
> 
> Okay, I think that's everything - posting schedule is my usual 'every Monday' type deal. You all know the drill. Also, I really really really really hope you like this fic.

The house is cold and unlit when Nicole arrives home after school. She cannot say she is surprised. 

Her parents haven’t been home all week, and they haven’t bothered leaving a note to say where they are or when they will be back. Probably, they have gone with Nicole’s aunt - her mother’s sister - to another weird music festival in the ass end of nowhere. 

Once upon a time, they used to bring Nicole along with them, although they would quickly lose interest in taking care of her. Despite her young age, the adults would let her run amok in the woods until she felt hungry enough to find her way back to the campsite again. 

Much as the complete emotional (and literal) absenteeism has always had its advantages - namely the freedom Nicole has always used to her own benefit - even as a small child she had known something wasn’t right. 

It had always left her empty and wanting, seeing the bonds that other kids at school seemed to possess with their families. Nicole had never felt anything like that. As a small child, she had prayed fervently for a younger brother or sister to come along; someone she could take care of, someone who might love her back. 

Now, however, as a teenager, she could see that her parents would never have had a second child, except by accident. She could see too that it was for the best. No use in dragging anyone else into all this hurt. After all, she and her parents had reached a point where they could barely stand the sight of each other. 

Probably, she should be worried about them now, but things have degenerated too much for that. Her parents have failed to notice much of anything about her life for years, and Nicole does not see that changing any time soon. By now life is, on the whole, so much easier when she doesn’t have to see them at all. 

So, she does not particularly care where her parents are. She doesn’t even care if they never come back. 

The only real inconvenience caused by their absence is that, when they are around, they leave money for her to do the family’s grocery shopping - something which is apparently too much effort for them to undertake themselves. 

Without their supply of cash - and with Nicole’s meagre wages from flipping burgers at a nearby diner barely covering the bills her parents conveniently forgot to pay - finding food after nearly one week alone was becoming a struggle.

Still, an empty stomach was better than an occupied house, if it was going to be her parents filling the rooms. 

At least it is Friday - she will spend most of the weekend working, and her boss always allows her to take a little of the leftover food from the kitchen. Another weekend eating greasy junk food wasn’t exactly ideal, but at least it was something, and she could lie to herself that she was balancing it all out with the amount of soccer she played. 

For now, at least, she has the house to herself, along with a banana and two bags of potato chips she had managed to liberate from the supermarket when no one was looking. Although she has never been one to care too much about certain rules, stealing stuff sort of fell outside of that boundary. She felt guilty for taking something that wasn’t her own, something that she didn’t _ earn _ herself, but she didn’t have even a dollar to her name, and she hadn’t eaten in days. As it was, she was having to take her bike everywhere because she couldn’t afford a bus fare. She needed fuel. 

Besides, the store was a big national chain. They probably wouldn’t miss a couple of dollars’ worth of food. 

Trying to put the guilt out of her mind, she locks the front door behind her and tosses her backpack haphazardly onto the floor in the hallway. 

No parents meant no one on her ass for leaving her bag and sneakers by the door. So her current solitary living arrangement had a few perks. 

There are a couple of letters on the doormat, all of them addressed to her mom. One has her school’s logo on the front, and Nicole can only assume that she already knows what it will be about. 

She plucks that particular envelope out of the pile and leaves the rest on the kitchen table, before pouring herself a glass of water. She is happy at least that the company has not cut her off like last time her parents did their great escapology trick without paying the bills. 

She also snags a couple of her father’s beers from the fridge. He will notice them missing and there will be hell to pay later, but Nicole cannot bring herself to care. If the worst comes to the worst, she will simply replace them with her wages before he gets back. One of the kids in the grade above got her a fake ID when she was sixteen, and it has never failed her yet. She has the distinct advantage of being taller than most kids her age, and so no one ever questions the lie that she is already nineteen.

Taking the drinks, her mom’s letter, and her meagre food supplies into the living room, she settles down on the couch and flips through the television channels for something to watch. There is no Netflix when her money is this tight. 

She is just about to rip open the envelope from her school when her phone rings. Her first thought is that it might be her parents, and as soon as she checks the caller ID she almost wants to laugh at her own stupidity. They have never once called to check in with her before. More than that, she wants to cry at the way she still wants to hope that they will suddenly, inexplicably come around. It may have been too little too late, but it would be _ something _. 

Besides, she probably wouldn’t answer the call as she does when she sees her friend’s name on the screen. 

“What’s up?” she asks almost inaudibly as she swallows an enormous mouthful of chips. 

“Charming.” 

“I always am.” 

Dolls snorts down the phone. “Not even in your wildest dreams Haught.” 

“Is this why you phoned? To hurl abuse at me?” 

“Don’t be such a baby. What are you eating?” 

She pauses. Dolls knows perhaps more than anyone about her home situation, and still he does not know everything. Nicole is not in the habit of sharing her problems. 

He knows she hasn’t been eating, though. It is kind of hard to hide it from him. He has coached her soccer team for years, and was the first - and only - person to notice how easily Nicole would succumb to fatigue during certain weeks. It was particularly incongruous because otherwise, she was kind of the star striker - not that she would ever put it in those words herself. They were entirely Dolls’. 

After one particularly nasty incident in which she had simply felt her legs give out beneath her during the team’s warm up, she had been forced to admit to Dolls that she hadn’t had any proper food for days in order to stop him calling an ambulance for her there and then. 

She had watched, closely and with a large dose of shame beneath her skin, the play of emotions on his face when he heard the truth. There was a lot of anger there, but if he had felt pity towards her he had hidden it well. It was perhaps the one thing that had stopped Nicole shutting him out entirely. She didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for her. 

Instead, Dolls had simply asked more questions about her home life, and although Nicole had avoided most of them, he was an astute man and capable of reading between the lines. 

He had made her sit out on training, and after the session was over he drove them both to the nearest store. To this day he had never let her pay him back for the groceries he bought, and to this day she had never stopped trying to make him. That had been years ago - she could only have been fifteen or so at the time - but one day she would repay him, in more than just the financial sense. She already did her best by never missing training and outperforming herself at every game, but she did not like the idea of owing anyone anything. 

When she was old enough, she was going to find a way to put herself through college, and she was going to make her own money, and she was never going to be dependent on anyone ever again. 

She couldn’t rely on anyone; and even the people like Dolls who stuck around could leave her at any time. 

So she swallows her chips properly and, in answer to Dolls’ transparent question about her meal, says, 

“Pasta. If that’s okay _ mom _.”

Dolls chortles, but he sounds hesitant. He has almost three years of what can tentatively be called a friendship under his belt, so he could see through the lie pretty easily. 

“And are you working over the next couple of days?”

“Yep, pretty much all hours that I’m not at soccer.” They have games both mornings this weekend. 

“Okay.” Dolls knows she eats when she works. He sounds somewhat pacified but still unconvinced. “I was just wondering if you’d heard from them? That’s why I called.”

“So, not just to give me shit about food?” Nicole asks, assessing that Dolls will know she is smiling by the way she asks the question.

“No, that was just a happy perk.”

“Asshole. But no, _ shockingly _ I haven’t. But this is normal for them, trust me. I’d be more shocked if I did hear from my parents when they disappear off to fuck knows where.”

She hears Dolls’ brain whirring in the silence that follows. 

She is not in the habit of telling him outright when her parents simply up and leave, but she has become so accustomed to him being able to tell without needing her to say anything, that it had just slipped out last Sunday after they finished their soccer match. 

She had simply got home from work the evening before and found the house empty, save for the cat. When her parents weren’t back the following morning, Nicole had left for soccer knowing precisely what it all meant. 

Dolls, however, still has trouble wrapping his head around the whole thing, which is odd because he has alluded enough times that his own familial relationships had not stood the test of time. But he is supportive, and genuinely says all of the right things, so Nicole lets him in once in a blue moon. It still feels odd, having someone know something she has fought to keep a secret all her life, but she knows she can trust him. 

It is not like he is still in school anyway, nor did he ever attend Nicole’s school, so there’s no one in both of their social circles except for the rest of the soccer team. 

She knows - has known since she was very young, in fact - that she cannot afford for anyone at school to find out that she spends half her time alone. There would be interventions and some kind of action plan, and as she is still only seventeen, she would have more or less no control over any decisions made on her behalf. She has gotten by just fine like this for years. She doesn’t need anyone else interfering and judging and maybe even pitying her. 

She only has a few more months to wait before her eighteenth birthday, and everything will get easier from then on. Certainly, the worry of having her independence stolen because her parents can’t simply be at least physically present would be taken away. 

She does not say any of this to Dolls, however, but rather makes small talk with him awhile about school and soccer. She appreciates his older brother routine more than she ever says, but sometimes she just wants to shut her brain off for a few hours at the end of the day. 

Eventually, he gets the hint and bids her goodnight. 

Nicole sets her phone on silent and tosses it to one side. She goes back to her chips, and eventually starts on the beers. She is more than a little buzzed by the time she hears the cat outside the back door, crying to be let in.

She feeds her before going back to a trashy reality show she had selected specifically for its mind-numbing properties. Indeed, she would have forgotten about the stolen envelope entirely if it had not crumpled underfoot, presumably having fallen off the arm of the couch hours before. 

With a sigh, and feeling slightly unsteady as she stoops to pick it up, she resigns herself to her fate.

She sinks back onto the couch, movements heavy and inhibited by too much stolen beer, and tears the paper open. 

Sure enough, its contents are bleak. 

She is on her fourth missed class of the semester and the school has finally lost patience. In her defence, she had only skipped school this week because the cat was sick, and she could hardly ask anyone else to take her to get checked out. Luckily, the surgery had her folks’ details on file and sent out a thirty-day invoice, otherwise there’s no way she could have got treatment for her pet. She was the only living creature in the house that Nicole didn’t despise, and that didn’t despise her back in equal measure. 

She might not feel she needed her parents but she damn well needed her cat. 

So she had skipped English class on Tuesday. She still feels no remorse whatsoever for it. She had finished the required reading a long time ago, and got an A+ in her last paper. But there was no real note for ‘my parents have disappeared and I’m scared my cat might die, so I went to the vet’ and Nicole knew she was going to pay the price for it somehow. 

Still, she had hoped her academic record might speak for itself, and she would just get another slap on the wrist. 

Instead, they’d issued her with a truancy notice. She supposes it makes sense, because while she had possessed valid reasons (in her own mind, at least) for all the missed classes this year, not one had been officially signed off. She couldn’t admit she was sick, or underfed, or underslept, or any of the things that had come about thanks to her parents’ negligence. Her years of skipping school as a cry for help were long gone, but the teachers weren’t to know that. 

She had missed a lot of classes back when she was a junior, but she had long since turned things around. Indeed, she stopped deliberately failing classes once she realised that her parents weren’t going to notice her whether she succeeded or failed in life. There was no point sabotaging her potential for a good future for two people who didn’t care about her. So she’d worked hard, eventually increasing her GPA to something much more fitting for someone with her intellect and determination. She started making it clear she wanted to be a cop, and slowly the looks of surprise had faded as her teachers realised that she was actually very capable of achieving this goal. 

She had really hoped that this might all speak in her favour, but apparently trust was harder to fix than her grades. Plus, she had admittedly ignored all of the steps the school had tried to impose in their previous warnings, all of which she had somehow kept a secret from her parents. 

They had suggested attendance reviews and a weekend study program, both of which she had ignored because they were incompatible with soccer, which always took precedence. Her grades were near perfect and she needed to keep her soccer caps high if she wanted even one shot at a college scholarship. 

Besides, there was really no point in someone trying to review her attendance when she was trying her very best to show up to school in the first place. She actually _ wanted _to be there. It genuinely wasn’t her fault things were just stacking up against her and there was nothing she could do to stop them toppling over every time. 

At this thought, she feels her heart sink, hating the way her eyes fill with frustrated tears. Crying won’t help her now. 

It is a byproduct of the beer, she knows this, but it still feels like a weakness she cannot allow. She thinks that if she starts crying, she might never stop. 

Bitterly, she swipes at her eyes and thinks how nice it would be if something, _ anything _, could just not be so utterly against her. 

A truancy notice means a fine or even probation time. It would mean juvenile court and talking to a judge. It would mean needing her mom or dad to be present. If she didn’t tell them and turned up alone, she would just make things worse for herself. 

She looks at the court date for next week, and wonders why this - of all things - could move so fast when normally these matters are rooted in so much bureaucracy and time-wasting.

There is no guarantee her parents would even be back in town by then. 

They certainly won’t answer any calls from her until they return, and at any rate Nicole is far too proud to phone up and ask them for help. 

Frustrated, she hurls the nearest missile - thankfully only a beaded scatter cushion - at the wall. It makes a dissatisfying thud, and does little to quell the sea of frustration swelling in her stomach.

_ Is it too much to ask _ , she thinks to herself, _ that _ something _ in my life just be easy? _

  
  
  
  
  
  


With such bad news on her mind, the rest of the weekend already seems somewhat doomed, not least because she wakes up on Saturday morning with a piercing pain behind her eyes, from both the beer and the small amount crying she had finally allowed herself to do. 

She snoozes her alarm three times and gets up with barely five minutes to get ready. Prioritising, she gulps down some water and brushes her teeth. She can shower in the changing rooms after the match. There is no food left in the house, so she does not have to even consider breakfast. 

She throws her cleats and shin pads - all still muddy from last weekend - into her ratty old kit bag and pulls the rest of her sports clothes on as quickly as possible. She just about has time to check on the cat’s food and water before haring off on her bike to the soccer fields. 

She is sweaty and far from presentable when she finally arrives, barely in time for Dolls’ preliminary team talk. He casts a sideways look at her as she bursts into the locker room, and his concern is evident on his face. She cannot really say she blames him. 

She had caught sight of herself briefly in the bathroom mirror earlier; she knows how she looks. She is pale - paler even than normal - and has definitely lost weight over the past few months. After so much beer last night, her sleep had not been a productive or particularly restful one, and she knows she has deep, dark smudges under both eyes. 

She is still not used to anyone noticing that she is laughably far from being okay, and sometimes forgets to bother pretending to uphold any illusions. 

The only other person who even gives her a second glance as she sits down is Shae, and Nicole does her level best not to meet the other girl’s eye. Too much has passed between them for it to be entirely comfortable now. 

Shae had tried out for goalkeeper at the start of Nicole’s second season on the team, and she had been good. She was tall and lithe and possessed perfect quick reflexes for the position. She also slotted into the team quickly and easily, but it was she and Nicole who hit it off the most. 

By the age of fifteen, Nicole had long since connected her subtle distaste for men and her body’s physiological reaction to women to being a lesbian. She cannot really remember how she had felt at the time, but she had not particularly cared either way. It wasn’t like she would disappoint her parents even if she had any need to tell them. If they had failed to notice the years of sustained truancy, then they certainly wouldn’t pick up on Nicole’s attraction to other girls. 

Shae, however, took a little longer in her own journey. 

A few too many lingering glances and fleeting touches told Nicole which direction things were headed in, but it took Shae until earlier that year to accept and admit her own feelings. 

They dated in secret for a little over eight months, until the summer vacation, because Shae’s ultra conservative, very overbearing parents could not be allowed to catch on. 

Partly, Nicole knows she kept Shae at arm’s length too. The failure of the relationship wasn’t all on her ex-girlfriend. 

Indeed, Shae came close to knowing the real story of Nicole’s life at home, but even then there were barriers. At the same time, Shae could only risk inviting Nicole around once in a blue moon, so neither of them ever really had a shot at seeing the other’s family situation. 

Nicole understood Shae’s desperation for secrecy, even if she did not particularly share it, but it was a little tougher when, upon having their relationship discovered by some of the kids at school, Shae had bailed. 

Luckily, they had both been so cautious that, when the gossip made it back to Shae’s parents, she had managed to pass it off as a nasty, untruthful rumour. She had never paid the full price of being outed to her parents. All the same, she broke things off with Nicole instantly. 

Deep down, Nicole understands why. She is glad Shae is safe. 

But going back to being alone when she had so nearly let someone all the way in was a struggle, especially because Nicole could really use a support system right now. Admittedly she has Dolls, but she really and truly cannot think of anyone else on earth who would care if she disappeared off the face of the planet. 

The whole sorry incident with Shae had also reinforced to her that she cannot really afford to trust anyone, which was a revelation that had not especially helped her progress. 

She supposes that Shae still cares - her concerned double-take right now should probably indicate as much - but somehow this only stings more. She still _ cares _ but not enough to make a promise that they could wait until college, or still share their problems and their secrets like they used to do, even if they can’t go back to being girlfriends. 

In a way, Nicole's lingering resentment makes Shae’s concern smart like it is something else, something like judgement or scorn or, worst of all, pity. 

Nicole drops heavily onto the bench, choosing the furthest spot possible from where Shae is sitting, fiddling with a set of goalie gloves in her lap. 

Almost seamlessly, Dolls resumes his pre-match speech, very little of which Nicole hears. Her mind is still at home on the truancy notice stuffed under a pile of notebooks and school papers on her bedside cabinet. 

She is still distracted when Dolls dismisses the team and sends them onto the pitch to warm up, holding Nicole behind with a single, probing look in her direction. 

She hovers, making a meal of untying and retying her shoelace, until it is just her and Dolls left in the room. 

Wordlessly, he pulls a couple of granola bars out of his own kit bag and holds them out to her. 

Nicole feels the familiar swirl of shame and frustration in her stomach, knowing her cheeks are colouring as she stares up at Dolls. She finishes tying her shoe, straightens up, and eventually takes the food he offers. Her pride wants to say ‘no’, but she knows that Dolls will persist, and may even be quietly put out that his attempts at kindness had been rebuffed. 

Nicole is not the only one of them that has put up walls, and Dolls is letting his own down slightly in just these interactions alone.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, unwrapping one bar and stuffing well over half of it into her mouth, a deliberate tactic in case Dolls wants to have a _ talk_. 

Instead, he simply studies her face and asks quietly,

“Game face on?” 

It would translate roughly from their shared language into English as _ ‘are you alright _?’

Nicole nods and, once she has swallowed her food says, “always.” 

She does not particularly convince either of them. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


By the time Nicole has missed her second open goal of the first half, it is quite obvious to all involved that she very much does _ not _ have her game face on. 

She still manages to single-handedly bring the team to one-nil up by half time, but she should have scored a hattrick within the first thirty minutes of the match. 

She earns herself a few odd, concerned looks from the rest of the team during the half time talk, but ultimately manages to grit her teeth and take back her two missed goals after the break. All the same, she is still distracted enough that she does not spot a poorly timed sliding tackle from an opposing defender until it is much too late.

She finds herself flipped onto her back in the box, feeling the moment the other girl’s studs slice into her leg. To her credit, the defender is mortified and Nicole knows not to take the injury too personally - it was obvious there had been no malintent in the tackle. As it is, Nicole’s opponent apologises profusely, and does not even question the referee’s decision to card her. 

For her part, Nicole takes the penalty with blood streaming down her leg and onto her socks, and then allows Dolls to convince her to sit the last ten minutes of the game out entirely. 

In that time, Shae loses her clean sheet which Nicole knows will annoy her greatly, but with that penalty under their belts, the team still takes the victory with four goals to their opponents’ one. 

Feeling frustrated for a reason she cannot quite place - yes, the two missed goals were annoying but the team won by a good margin and Nicole was a dead cert for player of the match - she bolts straight for the showers as soon as she can, mumbling something about cleaning out the cut on her leg. 

It smarts like hell under the stream of water, but Nicole cannot say she is entirely averse to at least feeling something at the moment. She half wishes she could bleed out her anger at almost everything in life right now as she watches the trail of red disappear down the drain. It does not fade to nothing as quickly as she'd expect and, upon closer inspection, she sees that the cut is far deeper than she initially perceived it to be. It is so deep, in fact, that it could probably warrant stitches, but Nicole definitely does not have time for that if she wants to work - and by extension, eat - today. 

When she finally steps out of the shower, what was a dull and distant pain seems to have increased tenfold, so that she can barely put any weight on the leg at all. 

_ Great, _ she thinks to herself _ , that's _ exactly _ what I needed on top of everything else. _

In an effort to hide the full extent of the injury, she patches herself up as best she can with dressings from the first aid kit, heartened to at least see that the bleeding was finally slowing down. 

Before she can sneak away from the building, thinking she has the excuse of work to avoid the rest of the team while she is in such a bad mood, Dolls appears by the main exit. 

He watches her limp down the corridor and says, 

"I don't think you'll be cycling anywhere today."

"It's nothing," Nicole protests, giving herself away instantly when she gasps at a particularly painful twinge in her leg.

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response, and I'm not letting you on the road like that. I'll drop you to work, otherwise I'll be getting a call that my star player is in the hospital and I have to find a new striker."

“Good to see you thinking of the team," Nicole says with a lopsided grin, managing to forget for two meagre but pleasant seconds that everything sucks. 

"I don't need you thinking you're special Haught," Dolls says breezily, leading the way to his car before Nicole can protest again. "You're a cocky little shit as it is."  
  
  
  
  


Dolls clips her bike onto a rack attached to the trunk of his car, and promises to drop it off at Nicole’s house after he leaves her at the diner. 

He really _ is _a good friend, and it just makes Nicole feel more guilty for turning up at the match in such a distracted headspace. 

There is little she can do about it however, and by the time she starts her shift, the weekend begins to blur into itself as repetition and muscle memory takes over.

Her job requires absolutely no conscious thought whatsoever, and she finds herself drifting about the diner on autopilot. When she arrives home late on Saturday evening - full to the brim with all the burgers and fries she could eat - she drinks more of her dad’s beers and climbs into bed with the world spinning behind her eyes yet again. 

The next morning brings more soccer, and she convinces Dolls to let her play at least in the second half, although she keeps to herself the fact that the wound definitely should have been stitched up, and will certainly heal with a pretty serious scar. They win the match again, and Nicole, a little happier with her second performance of the weekend, spends the rest of Sunday at work, just as she had the day before. 

She arrives home a little earlier than on Saturday, and sits herself down at the kitchen table with a bag of yet more free diner food to do her homework. 

She finishes her assignments just as her phone buzzes on the table, highlighting a new message from Dolls. 

_ I have good news, _ he writes. _ I was talking to the youth league coordinator and I think there might be a really good coaching opportunity for you with the under 11s? It’ll look good for college as it’s a position of responsibility. Can you be free on the afternoon/evening of the 21st? _

Upon reading the text all the way through, Nicole’s heart soars and then sinks more quickly than she has ever experienced before. 

She had been looking for a coaching gig for months, because sometimes they gave young coaches a little stipend, and because it looked good and showed she was responsible. 

But of course, she _ wasn’t _responsible; she was a truant and she needed to deal with the ramifications of her actions. Specifically, she had been scheduled in to deal with them on Thursday afternoon; the 21st. 

_ Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I can’t. Literally any other evening next week? _

  
  


_ No can do bud. Mike’s only free on Thursday. Can’t you switch your other thing? _

  
  


_ I can’t, no. It’s totally inflexible :( _

  
  


_ Well, shit. I guess it’s gonna be an either/or thing. _

  
  


_ I don’t have any choice. I’m really sorry, I wanted this so bad and I’m so grateful you tried to help me. But I have to do my thing. _

  
  


_ Shit dude. I really want you to try and go for this. What do you even have that’s so set in stone? _

  
  


Nicole pauses. She had known this was coming when the conversation started, and she knows she has to tell Dolls the truth. There could be any number of outcomes to her meeting next week, at least one or two of which could mean that she has to cut back on soccer. Dolls needs to know if that’s even a remote possibility.

  
  


_ I might have a truancy notice I need to deal with… _

  
  


The call comes instantaneously - even quicker than Nicole had anticipated. Accepting her fate, she answers. 

She doesn’t even get a chance to say ‘hello’. 

“A truancy notice?” Dolls asks without hesitation, voice sounding so blank that Nicole half-wonders if he is actually questioning what it is. But then he says, “you haven’t been going to class?” 

“_ Okay _ that’s not quite true,” Nicole protests, trying and failing to strike a note of humour into the conversation. “I have been going to _ most _of my classes.” 

“Well evidently not if you’ve been issued with a truancy notice.”

Down the phone, Dolls sounds disappointed and frustrated in equal measure, and Nicole is not sure which emotion piques her own anger the most. “You know you’re not _ actually _ my dad right? You don’t get to climb up onto your high horse over this.”

“I’m not _ trying _ to, Nicole,” Dolls responds, sounding short and perhaps even slightly hurt. “I just thought you’d left this behind. I _ thought _ you wanted to be a cop. You’re smart, you should be acting like it.”

“Well I’m _ sorry, _ ” Nicole snaps, feeling herself growing childish and hating herself for it. “I’m sorry I can’t out _ smart _ having no food and getting sick because of it, and then having a sick cat and no one else to take her to the vet. I’m sorry I’m just not _ acting smart _ enough for you by trying to deal with all this impossible crap the best I can. And I’m sorry you feel the need to get so high and mighty about it.” 

There is a long, long pause down the line. In the quiet, Nicole feels every ounce of stupidity in that comment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, feeling her voice wobble. She doesn’t have anyone else beside Dolls - she just isn’t used to anyone caring. “I didn’t mean any of that.” 

“No,” Dolls murmurs, “No, I’m sorry. I know you’re up against impossible odds. I shouldn’t have put this on you. None of this is your fault.”

Nicole gives an ugly snort. “Yeah, well. You’re right. It _ is _ on me. That’s just how its fallen. _ I’m _ the one with a court date and no parents to attend with me, even though they’re the ones that keep fucking up. So I’ll be the one ending up with a fine or even probation, and _ I’ll _ be the one who fucks up her chances of ever, ever being a cop with that on my record.” 

Nicole breaks off abruptly because she is crying now, just a few hot tears burning like liquid anger down her cheeks, but the weight of them is cracking her voice and she doesn’t want Dolls to hear it and think her weak. 

“You need to be honest with people about what’s happening,” Dolls says eventually, voice still quiet and thoughtful. “I know you hate the idea, but they might be more lenient on you. I know how much you want to be a cop. Don’t let those asshole parents of yours fuck it up for you, not when you’re so close. I know how hard you’ve worked” 

“You don’t get it though,” Nicole says, but she is calmer now, and there is no anger in her assertion that Dolls cannot possibly understand what her honesty would cost her. Of course other people don’t get it. They never have to think about stuff like this. “If they find out the truth, they’ll take me away from my parents.”

“Nicole, I don’t mean this to sound cruel, but I think that might be a good thing for you. It’ll take the pressure off you.”

“But there’s no one else _ here _, Dolls,” Nicole insists. “My grandparents are dead. They won’t give my aunt and uncle guardianship because they’re just as shitty as my mom and dad. They’ll send me to strangers around here, or even worse they’ll send me away. I won’t have anything left if they do that.” 

Dolls kindly neglects to mention that Nicole does not have much more to her name now. But she has soccer (and by extension she has him) and her job, and she knows this city and she has her independence. The idea of going to strangers, even for a couple of months, sets off a sort of odd fear and panic in the pit of her stomach every time she thinks about it. She is better off with the devil she knows than the one she doesn’t. 

“But if you’ve got no parents to go to the appointment with you, you’re going to have to explain why that is.” 

“I know that,” Nicole says quietly, “but I’m praying it doesn’t come down to that. Or you know, maybe you really _ could _ stand in for my dad, since you’re trying to do it so much already.” 

At this, Dolls laughs loudly and genuinely, and it lifts her spirits just slightly. 

“You’re right, it’s a stupid idea” Nicole goes on, still joking around, “you look far too young.”

“Yeah,” Dolls says sarcastically, still chortling, “because _ that’s _the obvious problem with that plan.” 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Thursday comes around faster than Nicole could have believed, and Dolls insists on once again driving her around town. 

Her parents still hadn’t shown up at home, and although Dolls couldn’t really attend the meeting with the judge (everyone was studiously not calling it a hearing, but it took place with a judge in a small courtroom, so Nicole was under no illusions), he wanted to be there for her.

She appreciated it greatly, because she had felt her mood - and her sense of calm - spiralling downwards all week. She had gone through varying stages of acceptance, anger, and panic with every passing moment that her parents were absent.

Over the years, Nicole had gradually stopped praying to hear her parents’ car pull up, or their key turning in the lock when they disappeared like this. However, for the first time in years, Nicole finds herself wishing for precisely this. She had thought that, with them at her side in the meeting and pretending to be good parents, she could figure out the rest herself. She will pay a fine or do whatever it takes to show that she is serious about school. 

But as soon as it becomes obvious that she is going to be facing down a room full of adults on her own, she knows her fate is sealed. 

On the drive over, Dolls urges her once again to tell the truth about her parents, but in the end this whole mess would never come down to honesty. It certainly wouldn’t come down to what she wanted. 

It comes down to the fact that she turns up alone when it was expressly stated that at least one parent needed to be in attendance.

The judge, a rather bland, nondescript-looking man in his fifties, gives her a beady, unimpressed look as she steps into the room. She glances about, noting one of her teachers already seated inside, along with three other people, none of whom she knows but who are clearly employees here. 

The judge wastes no time in asking her to confirm her name, and asking her whether she disputed the school’s assertion that she had been missing school.

This question catches her off guard immediately; she hadn’t expected to be asked her side of the story. She didn’t really want to have to speak, not because she is nervous (she is not, just lacking in hope) but because after all these years it feels like she has nothing more to say. 

“No,” she says, hearing how hollow and defeated she sounds. Immediately, she wants to cringe. She had promised herself she would come in here and show no weakness, but already she sounds more weakened than she has ever felt in her entire life. “I missed the classes.” 

The judges pauses, scanning his notes for a moment. When he looks back up, his second question blindsides Nicole even more than his first.

“Why?” 

He doesn’t sound judgemental (in spite of his profession), nor does he sound particularly angry. Instead, he sounds nothing more or less than curious. 

Nicole opens her mouth and finds herself at a loss for words. There are so many excuses she could give, as well as a lot of truths she could tell, but in that moment she has never felt so tired in her life, so she simply says,

“I just didn’t go.”

The judge watches her carefully for a moment then glances quickly to the teacher from Nicole’s school. It is Mrs Peterson who teaches Math. She has always been one of Nicole’s favourite teachers and it kind of sucks that she was the one who’d now be associated with all of this bad stuff.

Nicole watches as, without saying anything, Mrs Peterson pulls a face and the judge nods.

“Nicole,” he begins, taking a breath, “I speak to a lot of young people who take themselves out of school. I’ve been doing this for a very long time, and I’d warrant that I’ve heard every permutation of every possible reason that a young person doesn’t make it to class. Your school sent me a report. It looks like this isn’t the first time you’ve made yourself absent from school before.” 

“It was a long time ago,” Nicole says with a shrug, aiming to look disaffected although beneath the surface she feels as though everything is crumbling beneath her. If the school have told him all about her past, then she doesn’t stand a chance at all. 

“I know,” the judge says evenly. “The school sent me your attendance record between then and now. They also sent me your grades.”

Nicole nods and says nothing more. 

“You’re passing everything,” the judge states simply and Nicole nods again. “In fact, you’re passing everything with flying colours. So forgive me Nicole, but I don’t believe that you simply didn’t turn up for no reason. I don’t get many young people in my courtroom who turns things around this well, only to then miss a handful of unrelated classes years later.”

“It’s like you said,” Nicole replies, still sounding lacklustre and detached, “I’m passing everything. I figured I could afford to miss the classes. I didn’t see the point in going to any of the reviews since my grades are fine.” 

The judge visibly bites at the inside of his cheek as he thinks. 

“I can’t make you tell me the truth,” he says quietly, “although this _ is _ a courtroom. But I need you to think carefully about what this story will cost you, because if we can’t get to the bottom of this, I will have to give you a fine or put you on probation.” 

Nicole feels what little fight she has left leave her. They’ll never let her be a cop now. She might not even get into college. If that is the case, there is very little point even protesting whatever the judge decides, whether it be fine or probation. 

Almost as if she reads Nicole’s mind, Mrs Peterson chooses this moment to speak.

“Nicole plans on going into higher education, and having been her teacher for three years running, I believe it is the right move for her. There’s no doubt she has the aptitude.” 

Hearing one of the only teachers who ever gave Nicole a second chance after middle school speak in her favour is the final straw. A hot tear trickles down her cheek, followed by another and then another.

None of this was fair. None of it. 

“Unfortunately colleges do take these reports into account,” the judge says. “Nicole being sent here might be bypassed by admissions offices depending on what I write, but if, as she has said to me, she simply chose not to go to school then I will have to base my report on that information.” 

Mrs Peterson casts a somewhat desperate glance at Nicole, who has her eyes fixed on her feet as she tries to surreptitiously wipe her cheeks. If she had thought crying on the phone to Dolls was bad, then this was downright mortifying. 

“Where are you parents, Nicole?” the judge asks, and out of the corner of her eye Nicole can still see him watching her carefully. 

“They’re at work,” she lies.

“Why didn’t they come here?”

“Couldn’t afford the time off.” 

The judge hums and turns to one of the admin staff sitting below his raised platform. 

“Perhaps one of you could call Nicole’s mother or father’s place of work. They really ought to have been here, but I’ll settle for a brief telephone conversation.” 

Nicole feels her heart fly into her mouth at the thought of how much worse her punishment will be when she is caught lying, but as quickly as the panic arrives it is gone again. It is not as though she can feel any worse than she already does; she has reached emotional saturation either way.

Nonetheless, it is excruciatingly awkward to watch things unfold as first her mom and then her dad’s colleagues explain that they have both not been at work for nearly two full weeks. 

There is a note of anger in the judge’s voice when he turns his attention back on Nicole again, although whether the frustration is directed at her or elsewhere, Nicole cannot tell.

“Your parents haven’t been at work for two weeks.” 

Nicole says nothing, gives no indication at all that she has heard him.

The judge presses on. “Where are they, Nicole?” 

Nicole opens her mouth and casts about for another, more convincing lie but nothing is forthcoming. She is so, so tired and her brain just won’t work anymore.

After a protracted silence she knows she has no choice anymore. 

Feeling utterly sick to her stomach she says, “I don’t know.” 

She feels the whole mood of the room change. She feels the pity start radiating off these adults who have probably seen cases of neglected kids a hundred million times before. But what they don’t understand is that Nicole isn’t a neglected kid. She looks after herself just fine. 

“What does that mean?” the judge asks.

Nicole fights to keep her patience at the somewhat stupid question, but she does not manage to keep the cheek and sarcasm out of her voice.

“It means I don’t have a goddamn clue where they are. It happens sometimes, they don’t tell me where they’re going.” 

“And how many times has this happened?” 

“In how long?” Nicole asks.

“In general.”

Nicole cannot help herself as she scoffs at the question. She cannot possibly hope to have kept an accurate account of all her parents’ absences. 

“Not a clue,” she says, sounding so amused by the question that the judge changes tack immediately. 

“This school year so far then?” 

Nicole counts in her head. Now she has opened this can of worms, there is not really much point in lying. She is completely screwed either way. 

“I guess like four ish times?” 

The judge regards her calmly. “That’s pretty much how many times you’ve missed school.”

Nicole stares him down. She understands the point he is making, but isn’t about to pat him on the back for working out what no one else has bothered to ascertain in years.

“I guess it is, yeah,” she says, voice the strongest it has been all afternoon. 

What then follows her roundabout admission is a lot of questions about what her parents’ behaviour meant for Nicole in practical terms; where did she go and how did she get by? What happened if her parents didn’t come back in their usual amount of time? How long did they go for? When did Nicole first remember it happening?

The longer it all went on, the more a tension headache made itself known behind Nicole’s eyes, and the more Nicole started to see and perceive others feeling sorry for her. She knows that they mean well, but the only thing it ever gave her was a sense of shame and sadness.

Once she starts seeing the way things are inevitably going to pan out - that she is going to be forced to leave her home - the more vocally she starts to protest that she wants to keep things as they are, but she knows no one is listening to what she wants, because they all think they know what she needs. But what she _ needs _ is for everyone to leave her alone to get on with things just as she always has. 

But when it comes down to it, it was obvious she never had any power over her own destiny at all...  
  
  
  
  
  


“So, how did it go?” Dolls asks gently when Nicole meets him in the parking lot, biting her lip so hard against her tears that she tastes blood.

“Can you just drive?” she asks, trying not to sound unkind. None of this is Doll’s fault, but everything is _ terrible _. 

Without another word, Dolls pulls away. They drive in silence, a silence so loud that it rings in Nicole’s ears as she reels, and Dolls never once pushes for more. 

Eventually, when Nicole is as sure as she can be that she has swallowed back her tears, she speaks again. 

“I told them. I didn’t have any choice.”

Dolls hums, nodding. “And?”

“And the judge didn’t want me to get probation or a fine. He didn’t think it reflected my circumstances.” 

“Well,” Dolls says cautiously, “that’s _ something _, isn’t it?”

“My parents would have covered a fine,” Nicole says bitterly, ignoring the fact that a ruling against her in any way could have totally screwed up her future. The judge had even _ asked _ her what job she wanted to do and, despite her better judgement, Nicole had found herself telling him, sounding almost wistful even to her own ears. 

Dolls, however, is more willing to try and find a silver lining. “If they’d put you on probation it would have been bye-bye Academy.” 

“I know,” Nicole concedes, “but they’re sending me away. Like, far away.” 

She sees Dolls stiffen. “Ah.” 

“The judge seems to like, know this guy who lives somewhere out in the ass-end of Alberta. He apparently runs a…” Nicole pauses and fishes a flyer out of her backpack. “A ‘court-approved truancy prevention program’”, she reads. “He seems to think, given how much school I missed a few years ago, I needed to change my environment.” 

“I know it’s not what you want to hear Nicole,” Dolls says gently, “but maybe he’s right? Maybe you just need space to breathe and be yourself.”

Nicole grimaces. “I don’t even know who that is anymore.”

“That’s my point.” 

“I don’t need to be sent to the middle of the mountains for that.” 

“You _ like _ the mountains.” 

“Yes, on my own terms, but not with some random dude who’ll probably turn out to be this evangelising zealot and will hate me before he even knows me.” 

“Well, if the judge knows the guy, what did he say about him?”

“Curtis McCready, lives on a goddamn farm of all things with his wife and niece, apparently she’s my age. I think I’m supposed to bond with a goody-goody poster child and suddenly reform.” 

Nicole scoffs. That is the total opposite of the plan in her head. She only has a couple of months until she turns eighteen, and then she can do what she wants. If she wants to return to Ontario she can, and she can finish high school on her own terms. 

If no one is going to listen to _ her _, then her new plan is to listen to no one else. She will go to Alberta because she has no choice, she will go to school there for a few months until she is eighteen, and then she’ll come back home. They cannot make her engage in any of the rest of the program. 

“Or arguably they’re trying to give you some space to heal from all this crap you’ve been carrying around through no fault of your own.”

“I think my thing’s better.”

Dolls chuckles before turning serious again. “What do you think your folks will say?” 

“Like _ they’ll _ care. This is giving them what they’ve always wanted. And even if they wanted to protest it, they’re legally obligated to let me go. Apparently since they’re unfit to be my guardians anymore, the courts are stepping in. They’re even gonna have someone make sure I get on the damn plane.” 

“How long?”

“I’ve got one week to get my shit together and prepare to fly. And then they seem to think I have to stay until I graduate but they’ve got another thing coming.”

Dolls gives her a low chuckle. 

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“I hope you know you’re morally obligated to come pick me up on my eighteenth birthday,” Nicole points out, trying for a humour she does not feel in the slightest. 

“That’s quite the drive.” 

“You know I’m worth it. They can’t keep me there once I’m eighteen, so in January I’ll just leave. But since I doubt they’ll let me have my own money, you’ll need to come get me. I’ve already Googled the farm. I can probably get as far as Calgary, so that’s where I’ll meet you.” 

“Sounds like you’ve got this all planned out.” 

“I’m not kidding,” Nicole says, feeling her voice wobble. She needs to cling onto this plan if she has even half a hope of getting through this move. “Please Dolls, I need you to promise me you’ll help me get out. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to live with strangers who’ll probably just see me as this fucked up kid whose parents didn’t love her.”

Dolls makes a noise in the back of his throat that suggests he wants to protest Nicole’s assessment of herself. 

In the end, however, he simply promises that he will help her however she needs.

“Even if that means I have to drive for three days solid.” 

At this, the tears finally break through again. 

“Thank you,” Nicole says, voice raspy and broken as her throat constricts. 

She really, really doesn’t want to go. Everything else might suck here, but she’d made a life. She had a cat and a job; she had soccer and she had the friends she’d made on her team. This was what she knew, and she was being forced to leave. She had even asked if she could stay with Dolls, since he was over 21 and would probably let her crash on his couch enough to make it look like she lived there. 

The upshot, however, had been that the judge was not just addressing Nicole’s guardianship, he was addressing her truancy record. 

After a pause, Dolls gives a low whistle. It sounds somehow like he is shocked now, like things are finally hitting him. 

“Fuck it dude, I’m so sorry. I’m going to miss you.” 

Embarrassed at the way her tears increase tenfold at Dolls’ admission, Nicole swipes a hand over her eyes. “You’re just saying that because I keep scoring hattricks.” 

Dolls allows Nicole this moment of deflection as she composes herself as best she can.

“You know it buddy,” he tells her sadly. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Nicole’s parents arrive home three days before her own departure date.

It marks their longest unexplained absence for years. 

She fills them in on possibly the worst updates of her life as they all wait for the takeout pizzas her folks are forced to order when they discover that the kitchen is all but empty. 

“There isn’t any food in the house,” her mom says blankly as she fruitlessly opens the cupboards and then closes them again. “What did you do with the money we left you?”

“You didn’t,” Nicole snaps back. “You left me with absolutely nothing.”

“Oh…” her mom replies absently. “Did we?” 

Immediately, her dad pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

“I’ll do our usual pizza order,” he says, avoiding Nicole’s comment and presumably deciding that buying pizzas and garlic bread neutralises the fact that they had left Nicole to fend for herself for ages with nothing to her name. He presses a few buttons and locks his phone again, presumably only so fast because he makes the same order frequently enough. 

“Yes,” Nicole responds sharply, pressing the issue. “You also didn’t pay the bills, or get the cat her meds. She got sick and I had to skip school to take her to the vet. I spent all my wages on the household bills to make sure I still had electricity and running water.” 

“You shouldn’t skip school,” her mom states automatically, but there is no conviction in her voice, and certainly no real attempt to do any parenting. Nicole already knows the rest of her statement will be ignored entirely, and there will certainly be no attempts made to thank or reimburse her. 

“Well _ you _shouldn’t leave me all alone every other week but you do,” Nicole says, surprising even herself with how easily the words fall out of her mouth, each one dripping with vitriol and poison. It is the first time she has raised this issue since she was about eleven or twelve years old, and she watches as her parents’ expressions shift instantaneously. 

Her mother looks shocked, almost as though Nicole’ s accusation is brand new information to her. Her father on the other hand looks downright furious. 

“Contrary to your own belief, _ you _ are not the adult in this house. I won’t have my _ child _ inferring what I can or can’t do.” 

“Well I wouldn’t worry, because you won’t have to bother with me at all soon, so you can do whatever the hell you want,” Nicole spits. “Not that you don’t do that as it is. But I got called up for truancy. I might not be able to tell you what to do, but a judge can. They’re sending me halfway across the country to some dumb as fuck farm in the middle of nowhere, because you’re not fit to be my guardians but apparently _ I’m _ the one who has to suffer.” 

Nicole’s mom blinks, looking confused. “They accused you of truancy after one missed class?” 

Nicole almost feels shocked that her mother has bypassed the true point of Nicole’s statement, but sustained and deliberate evasion and avoidance is something she has come to expect on her mom’s part.

“Four. This semester alone. Because funnily enough, when your folks leave you without food or water for nearly two weeks, sometimes you aren’t well enough to make it into school.”

At this, her father pipes up again. “You’ve missed _ four _classes in barely a month?”

Nicole feels her temper flare. Perhaps her folks don’t care for her like other parents care for their kids, but surely the news that Nicole is being sent away should have triggered _ some _ sort of regret or guilt. 

“Yeah, kind of how you’ve missed the point I’m trying to make.” 

As her father grows even more furious, Nicole is only spared any onslaught of temper by the pizza delivery arriving. The store is close by, but this is rapid even by their standards.

Nicole silently wings off a thanks for the distraction. It is obvious that she is not going to get through to her parents, so she is better off not wasting her breath. 

Instead, she takes her share of the food and makes a beeline for her bedroom. Her parents say no more to her on any matter at all that evening, and Nicole decides to see it as a blessing. She does not want to admit to herself that there had been a tiny bulb of hope in her chest that her parents might hear her news and see it as the wake-up call they so desperately need. 

Instead, she is left to prepare everything for her journey by herself, so that when she wakes up on Saturday morning all that is left to do is lug her bags down the stairs and wait for Dolls to arrive. 

He had insisted point blank that there was no way Nicole was getting to the airport by any means of transportation other than his own car. She understood and appreciated the implication behind his words. At least someone would be by her side until the very last moment possible. 

Nicole loads her stuff into the trunk of his car, before returning and giving her cat the longest hug she dares. She buries her face in her pet’s fur and breathes in the familiar smell of her, shedding a few tears that this will be the last time for months that she gets to do this. 

At the very last minute, and probably due to Doll’s dirty look as he surveys her family for the first and likely last time, Nicole’s parents decide to come along to the airport. As she slips on her shoes, Nicole’s mom at least looks as though it is all finally starting to sink in. 

To try and combat both the awkwardness in the car and her own unbearable nerves, Nicole talks the whole way about how stupid this whole Alberta thing is, and how badly she doesn’t want to go. She had tried to Google the family she would be staying with, but all that ever seemed to come up was that they were connected somehow to an old timey lawman. She was totally in the dark on who Curtis McCready was, and she did not even have a name for his wife and niece. She had wondered for a time as to why he seemed to be the guardian for his niece, and had theorised that this was how he had started taking in kids like Nicole in the first place. 

Probably, that made him kind of a nice person, but Nicole was not interested either way. She would simply do her time in the least engaged way possible and then leave. Even if she had an affinity for the great outdoors, there would be nothing in Alberta that was worth staying there for, of that she was certain before she even left her house. 

The nearest town to the stupid farm was apparently a forty-five minute drive away, and was called Purgatory, probably because it had been designed specifically to grind salt into Nicole’s wounds. Of course she was expected to put her life on hold in a place called _ Purgatory _. Of course. At the very least it proved in an intelligent creator with a sense of humour, because Nicole was surely the butt of all its jokes right now. 

No one else speaks on the drive to the airport, where they are met by an official-looking man who is presumably there to ensure that Nicole actually gets on the plane. The judge was very clear that she should have no more money available to her than sufficient funds to buy herself food and drink at her three-hour layover in Winnipeg. This was convenient, because that was currently all the money she had to her name. She doubted she would be able to earn anything in Alberta, and the thought feels like a huge setback when she had a perfectly viable job here in the city that she had been forced to quit at very short notice. 

The airport was crowded, and Nicole already feels how easily it would be for her in the coming weeks and months to get lost entirely, almost as if life from now on would be as disorientating as the departures hall in Macdonald–Cartier International Airport. 

With her bags checked all the way through to Alberta - presumably to stop her running away in Winnipeg - there is little more to be done than to part from Dolls and her parents at the entrance to the security check.

Dolls gives her a long and unexpected hug and - whispering so that no one else can hear - she makes him promise that he will come and rescue her in January. He nods wordlessly, and she is surprised to see the emotion on his face when they break apart. 

She realises for the first time that she understands him just as much as he understands her, and to her immense shame she has no idea if there is anyone else about whom Dolls can say the same. 

Perhaps owing to the watchful gaze of the male official standing close by, her father steps up to hug her goodbye. He says nothing to her, and breaks away quickly. By comparison, her mom is wearing an expression that suggested that she was finally understanding that this was all real. Perhaps she was sad, but more than likely she was probably preoccupied by the uncomfortable weight of her own guilt. The hug she offers Nicole is awkward, but it is longer and more heartfelt than that of her father.

In a somewhat tearful voice that Nicole thinks is undeserved on her mother’s part, she tells Nicole to take care of herself and to phone home when she can. 

Nicole nods without any real conviction as they break apart. 

“Take care of Luna,” she says, referring to the cat, but otherwise offers no further words of kindness to her parents.

She turns to Dolls and gives him a look which can be easily read between them. _ Take care of yourself, and please don’t leave me for too long _. 

After this, the court official makes it clear that it is time for Nicole to leave when he states simply,

“Curtis will be waiting for you when you arrive.” 

Nicole nods, and takes one last look at the three other people standing before her. Then, wordlessly, she turns and walks towards security. 

She does not look back, in case the fear of what lays ahead brings her to tears. She does not want her parents to see her cry. A quiet, ugly part of her hopes she never sees them again at all. 

She makes it through the sensors and the bag check without mishap, relacing her shoes and shrugging back into her denim jacket before shouldering her backpack.

She finds an occupied seating area and slumps down into a chair, crossing her legs with one ankle over the opposite knee.

It is then that it hits her. 

This time, she really is completely on her own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did tell you it was long. And this is Chapter 1 of many. 
> 
> I would be soooo grateful to receive a review from you, and if you want to follow me on Twitter for more Wynonna Earp-related musings, please find me @rositabustiiios. 
> 
> Take care of yourselves - I'll be back next Monday!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope your weeks are off to a fantastic start.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read the first chapter and left a review.
> 
> This week, it's time for Nicole to meet Waverly, Wynonna, Gus, and Curtis. I hope you enjoy what I've written for you all!!

The journey to Alberta can only be described as completely uneventful. 

Nicole spends the whole time with her headphones on, blasting music and refusing to think about the reality of the situation. 

She does not have to wait long to board her first flight, and fills her time during her layover by buying a nice lunch. She figures she might as well treat herself while she can, but then finds she does not much feel like eating the food she purchases. So, she buys a book and reads the first few pages before deciding to save the rest for the drive to the McCready’s farm. It might discourage Curtis from speaking to her.

A couple of times as she waits to board her next plane, she seriously considers running away. All her stuff is replaceable and anything of sentimental value is on her person. 

She could get a job and just see what life in Winnipeg could offer until she had enough money to get back to Ontario. At one point, she is walking towards the exit when she stops herself in her tracks.

She has witnessed firsthand how tough life can be with no money and very little support system, and that was when she had a roof over her head. She would be mad to trade a few months of hell in Alberta for an unknown stretch of time in a city she does not know. 

She gets back to her gate just in time for boarding to start, and by five o’clock in the evening she is in Calgary airport. 

She dawdles as much as possible when collecting her suitcase and takes special care to make a rather unneeded trip to the bathroom before exiting the baggage reclaim hall. 

It is quite the feat to manage her enormous suitcase and two carry-ons as she weaves around the throngs of travellers milling about the arrivals hall, but she is glad for anything that impedes her progress towards this new life she has been forced into. 

Now that her journey is over, she cannot help but consider what the next few months could possibly bring. She had already resolved to simply be as disengaged as possible. It is not that she _ wants _ to cause issues for another, completely random family, but she also feels as though she has been completely ignored in all of this mess.

She wants the familiarity of her old life, not to once again feel like an outsider within a space in which she had no choice but to live. Because, when it came down to it, her parents had always made her feel like she didn’t belong. But back at home she had her own space and her own friends and her own routine. Here, she would be beholden entirely to another family, one she has never met, and the idea of being dependent upon anyone else but herself utterly terrifies her. 

So it is not that she wants to be rude or unruly to the McCready family. She just wants to go home or, at the very least, work out what that even means. She just wants to have some control over her own life, and not feel as though she is constantly struggling against the current and being buffeted from side-to-side by the swell of others as they passed by. 

In short, Nicole felt completely defeated, and coming face to face with the complete stranger who was now her guardian did not help matters. 

Admittedly, Curtis McCready was smiling and waving and, to her immense horror, holding up a sign with Nicole’s name on it. He has a strange face - pockmarked and asymmetrical in a way that lacks any semblance of grace or charm - but he looks kind and it disarms Nicole immediately. 

Contrary to what other people thought, she was not a bad kid or a lost cause. She never set out to live her life that way. She didn’t _ want _ to cause trouble for others; she just wanted to be left alone. But seeing a man standing before her who looked so downright _ nice _ made it even harder to think about detaching herself to get through the coming months. 

She wants to hope that he will be a pushover; that he might send her home early on good behaviour. But in truth, Nicole is a far better judge of character than that. Curtis McCready, by the looks of him, will want to get to the root of all Nicole’s problems, and he’ll probably care enough to want to keep her from her absentee parents for as long as possible. 

As nice as that kind of sounds, she actually wants someone who will do the opposite.

She feels her nerves increase tenfold as reality sets in once again, and she struggles to meet Curtis’ eye or even make much conversation when they are finally with earshot of one another. 

Up close, Curtis’ distinctive features also show the first signs of age; he has crinkles around his eyes which kind of remind Nicole of laughter lines, but she is unsure as to whether or not that is actually the case. Maybe he is just tired, since taking in a bunch of troubled, difficult kids on top of running a farm was probably a pretty big energy drain. 

Nicole wonders if she is about to be tarred with the same brush. She also wonders briefly if she should give them the person they are probably expecting. 

But Curtis McCready is not the only one who is probably tired of picking up others’ slack, and Nicole is not sure she even has the energy or inclination to cause trouble like she used to. This becomes evident when Curtis greets her and she struggles to respond at all to him. 

“Nicole, hi there. It’s good to meet you.” 

He holds out his hand and Nicole cannot quite manage to take it with all of the bags she is holding. Curtis chuckles and shakes his head at himself. 

“Sorry,” he says good-naturedly, “you’re a bit too overloaded there for formalities. Can I take something for you?”

Feeling uncharacteristically quiet and shy, Nicole shakes her head. “I can manage.” 

“Well then, let’s get you out of here so you can set that stuff down.”

Nicole nods and lets herself be lead through the airport and to the nearby parking lot. As they walk, Curtis chats. 

“How was your journey?” he asks, looking directly at Nicole. It throws her and she finds herself shrugging ineffectually.

“It was...yeah. Fine. Lots of kids.” 

Curtis nods and does not seem remotely perturbed by Nicole’s short responses. He must know she isn’t coming across rude; she can hear how she sounds. She is tired and her voice is hollow, and she is probably only reinforcing to Curtis that she is some kind of lost kid who needs attention and guidance. 

“I get it,” he says, ushering her out of the main exit and into the orange glare of a late summer evening. “It’s a lot to process. Was it your first flight?”

“No. I’ve flown before.”

“Anywhere outside of Canada?”

“No, just internal flights.” 

Sensing that it might be hard to get much more out of Nicole for a while, Curtis launches into his role of host. 

“We’ll have a bit of a drive out to the house I’m afraid, probably about two and a half hours, a bit more with the traffic at this time of day. Sorry about that. But it’s worth it for the scenery. We’re only a short way out from the Rockies, so it’s a really beautiful spot, I’m sure you’ll love it.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Well, saying ‘we’ - I have no idea what you’ve already been told.” 

“They gave me a flier.”

“Ah, okay. So you’ll probably know we live in a rural area, just outside of a town called Purgatory. It’s only small, but it has everything we’d need day to day, assuming we don’t produce it ourselves. Still, I’m sure it’s going to be a lot smaller than what you’re used to. It’s a quiet way of life, but people like it after they adapt. Often, they prefer it. The people are nice and there’s a real community feel. We look out for each other, make sure no one gets lost.” 

Nicole feels herself bristle at that, even though it is clear Curtis meant nothing by it. 

“I _ did _ have people looking out for me in Ottawa.”

Curtis pulls a sympathetic expression. “I don’t doubt it. But we’re here now to help out too. ‘We’ is going to be me, my wife Gus, and our young nieces. It’s usually just us and one of the girls, but we’ve got her older sister back staying with us for a while too. She’s had some struggles of her own, and has spent some time away from us.” 

Curtis breaks off as they arrive at an old blue pickup that is so painfully stereotypical Nicole wants to laugh. She tamps the impulse down, however, because it is likely that the emotion she is feeling is more akin to scorn than to mirth, and she does not think her reaction would be particularly well received. However, while she restrains herself in that respect, she cannot help but feel shocked at the news that a man who takes in other parents’ waifs and strays did not keep his own niece in his home when she went through something difficult.

Perhaps Curtis McCready is a mind-reader (or perhaps Nicole just does not hide her surprise particularly well) because he says,

“I know, I know. It sounds strange doesn’t it, a man taking in kids who need some time away but allowing his own family to be sent elsewhere. Well, unfortunately Wynonna got herself into some trouble even my program couldn’t get her out of. We’re a preventative system here, Nicole. And I’m sure you know as much as anyone that families can be complicated. You can’t always be what those closest to you need, and Wynonna left us with no choice. She also an adult now, so she has to find her own path.”

As he speaks, they load Nicole’s suitcase into the truck, but she keeps hold of her backpacks and brings them with her as she climbs up into the passenger side of the cab. She is quick to fish her book from one backpack and leave it on her lap as she straps her belt in. 

All the same, Curtis keeps speaking as he climbs into the driver’s seat and clicks his own seatbelt into place. 

“Our younger niece on the other hand, she’s been in our care continuously since she was small,” he says as he pulls out of the parking lot. “She’s called Waverly and I think the two of you will get on very well. You’re both the same age so you’ll be in the same grade at school.”

Nicole tries for a tight smile, but she knows it pulls taut over her face and probably better resembles a grimace. She makes a point of opening her book but knows it is fairly fruitless. 

“I know you don’t believe me about settling in, Nicole,” Curtis tells her gently, “and I know I’m biased, but Waverly really is a lovely girl - she’s very well-liked. She’ll help you.”

Nicole nods again. “Okay.”

Still, she cannot think of anything more appropriate to say. Being evasive suddenly seems easier than ever, because she really cannot arrive at one single response that would really _ mean _ anything. No matter what Curtis said, no matter how much he tried to soften the blow, she didn’t want to be here. 

“Now Wynonna is back we don’t have a spare room, although we do usually use Waverly’s room to house our female guests, at least initially. So you will have a roommate, at least for the time being, but Waverly will make sure you have your own space.” 

Nicole says nothing, chewing on her bottom lip and wondering how this mystery poster child must feel about constantly having a strange kid sharing her bedroom. Nicole knows she would hate it. After all, it was well and good Curtis assuring Nicole that _ she _ would have space, but what about his niece’s space? What about this girl who seemed to have to bunk in with whatever directionless kids her uncle picked up? 

A small part of Nicole is surprised that she is even being allowed to share a room with another girl, although it’s very probable that no one has outed her yet. It’s probably frowned upon in the courts by now. But out here, people will probably think that Nicole will turn this Waverly girl gay just by breathing near her. It is probably to both of their advantages if Nicole keeps her distance from her new roommate. 

Both of them resolute and arriving at a stalemate, Nicole tries to read her book and Curtis continues trying to talk. Nicole senses that, given his own way, he might have quite enjoyed a moment of quiet too, but clearly he has a point to prove. 

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me about you?”

Trying not to sigh too obviously as she tears her eyes aware from her page, Nicole shakes her head.

“There’s nothing to say. I’m no one.”

Curtis clicks her tongue. “Now I know that’s not true. Nobody’s no one. Perhaps I should tell you what I’ve heard about you?” 

Silently, Nicole thinks to herself, _ I wish you wouldn’t _. 

“I’ve heard that you have very high grades and that you’re very good at most of your classes. I’ve heard that you like animals, and that you want to be a cop. Is that true?” 

“Yeah, if they’ll even let me now.”

“Oh, they’ll let you,” Curtis says, sounding assured in a way that also kind of makes him sound a bit clueless on the whole process of getting accepted into the Academy. “The judge is a friend of ours, he’ll write you up a fair report. We know why you’ve been missing school. Even better, once you get your attendance back up, they’ll see you’re serious about it.”

Curtis says this with a testing note to his voice, like he wants to prompt some sort of admission from Nicole that she intends to go to school without complaint. 

Of course, she intends to do just that but she doesn’t see the point of saying so out loud. It is of no consequence to her whether anyone else knows it. 

When she says nothing more, Curtis goes on.

“All the same, even if it’s understandable that you’ve skipped some classes, my primary concern is simply that you do not miss school while you’re here.”

Still, Nicole doesn’t answer. Slowly, they edge through the city traffic, and finally Curtis allows them to lapse into silence for a moment. Nicole manages to read five pages before he speaks again. 

“I should also tell you that you’ll be expected to pitch in at home, although I’m sure that’ll come as no surprise to you. You'll need to do the chores, but you also have to help out on the farm. We'll start out slow at first with that sort of stuff. Don’t worry, it’s not Waverly’s favourite job either, but it’s necessary if we’re going to keep our business going.” 

“I understand," Nicole says quickly, keen to change the subject. "Do I get to make phone calls and stuff like that? When I’m not working, obviously.” Nicole thinks of Dolls and even of Shae. She just wants to hear a familiar voice, she doesn’t particularly care who it is. She thinks she’d even settle for a conversation with her mom at this moment in time. 

“Of course,” Curtis tells her with a nod. He pauses as he checks his mirror and changes lanes, the city finally dwindling away as they hit the outskirts and start moving a little faster. “We don’t allow some of our guests cell phones at first, but others - like are yourself - have reports that give us no reason not to trust you in that respect. However, please make sure you’re supervised for the first few times. Then, if we feel we don’t need to enforce that rule we won’t. You meet us halfway Nicole, and you’ll find that it’s very nice in our home.”

Despite the genuine kindness in Curtis’ voice, Nicole feels her heart sink. She cannot speak freely with someone watching her. She cannot tell Dolls she misses her old life, and she cannot tell Shae she is lonely. She will be restricted to bland conversations and coded discussions. It’s almost worse than having no phone calls at all. 

“Does that sound okay?” Curtis prompts, perhaps picking up on Nicole’s mood.

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“You guess? That doesn’t sound too convincing.”

“I guess it just feels like I can’t speak openly to my friends if there’s always going to be someone listening to my private conversations. But it’s fine, it doesn’t matter.” 

Nicole thinks that she has spent so long hiding how she feels that a few more months won’t hurt. 

“It absolutely matters to us that you speak openly Nicole,” Curtis insists. “That’s a huge part of the point of all this. We want you to open up about how you feel, about how the past few years have affected you. Over the last decade, we’ve had kids on our program who really, really didn’t want to be there. Yes, even more than you. I can assure you that my wife and I aren’t about to take offence by your honest assessment of being placed here.” 

“The past few years haven’t affected me,” Nicole insists, hearing the lie in her own voice. 

“I would beg to differ, but we have plenty of time to discuss that later.” 

“And in a decade does this ever work?” Nicole asks, finally succumbing to her own curiosity. “Does anyone ever come out of this not fucked up?” 

“‘Fucked up’ isn’t a term we’re going use to describe anyone, okay?” Curtis tells her gently.

“I can describe myself how I want,” Nicole retorts, although not churlishly. 

“Is that what you really think?” 

“Yes. And before you say anything about it not being true, I know me better than you do.” 

“Perhaps for now, since we’ve only just met. But I can assure that we’re not always the best judges of our own characters. The kids we work with usually finish the program with a greater sense of order and structure in their lives and as such, yes, they come out more self-confident and assured. I know it feels like you’ve been forced away from your home, Nicole - ”

“That’s because I _ have _ been,” Nicole points out evenly.

“We’re here to help, I hope we’ll be able to show you that, and that my family and I will earn your trust in the future.”

Nicole thinks to herself that it is almost impossible that she is about to trust these strangers more than she trusts herself and her friends from home. 

“You can help me by letting me go home,” Nicole says, hating how her voice wobbles at the final word. She absolutely will _ not _ be crying in front of Curtis or anyone in his family. 

“We can’t allow you to return home while your parents are unsuitable guardians, that is a court-enforced judgement,” Curtis explains patiently. “With little to no parental supervision, poor school attendance, and an assertion that you’ve been in possession of fake IDs used to buy alcohol - which won’t be permitted here - you can’t return to Ottawa just yet.”

“Don’t forget the part where I’m gay, too,” Nicole finds herself quipping before she can stop herself. She had wanted to get that fact out in the open as soon as possible, half hoping it would make the McCreadys reconsider having her in their house and near their nieces. Unfortunately for Nicole, however, Curtis would appear to be as tolerant and open as he is genuinely good-natured. 

“We aren’t going to be treating those things as remotely the same,” he says firmly. “Your identity is not something we are about to compare to your truancy. One needs addressing, and the other does not. We aren’t looking to change who you are as a person, Nicole. We’re just the people who have been chosen to try and provide you with the remedial structure and stability that will hopefully improve negative behaviour before it can become something more concerning.” 

Rather than protesting further, Nicole chooses to ignore some of the implications in Curtis’ sentence, and when she says nothing more Curtis finally drifts into silence as he drives.

It is gone eight o’clock in the evening when they finally arrive at the McCready farm. Despite having done very little, Nicole feels exhausted. She supposes the time difference doesn’t help, but mostly she just thinks she is completely done in on a bone-deep, emotional level. 

Curtis delays their arrival by making a detour through Purgatory, although, as he tells her, it would have been slightly quicker to drive straight to the house. 

After seeing the town, Nicole wishes he had simply bypassed the tour altogether. It is almost worse than not knowing, seeing how painfully small and isolated Purgatory really is. It somehow manages to surpass even her wildest imaginings of just how fully it would embody all the stereotypes of a small, rural town. 

In fact, even ‘town’ feels like a misnomer. 

Purgatory is more like a rough smattering of buildings beside one stretch of road, and it is completely deserted. Nicole manages to count a general store, a post office, a small bank, a bar, and a diner. The light is beginning to dim around them but there is no sign of any street lights on the sidewalks and the road itself seemed to feature only parked cars and motorbikes. If anyone actually lived here, there was no evidence of it that Nicole could see. Even the diner was closed, and only the bar seemed to be lit. 

It might as well be a ghost town. 

Then, Curtis drives for another forty-five minutes and with each passing mile they travel further and further into complete rural isolation. They leave what Nicole assumes must be the town center behind, and they pass through a landscape which is only fields and the odd, sporadically placed farmhouse. 

It is not that the rural location is, in itself, a problem. If she is being reasonable and accommodating, Nicole would admit that she has always found a quiet charm in the idea of a less city-based lifestyle. However, she had always imagined that to be a few years down the line, and she had always sort of thought she’d make the call on her own terms.

There is no way for her to get her head down and hide out here; there is nothing but the fields and the farms. She will be under her host family’s constant scrutiny, and she cannot even slope off on the pretence of doing her homework in a public library or local cafe. 

There is nothing of the sort even remotely close to the McCready house. She wonders if they even have a movie theater out here anywhere, but supposes she wouldn’t be allowed to make use of it anyway. 

Eventually, they leave the road and rattle their way down a narrow gravel track, finally coming up to an uneven, spacious driveway. 

Based on what she can see at first glance, the farm seems small enough, and mostly produce-based. All the same, Nicole thinks she spies a set of stables a fair distance away across a fenced-off pasture, as well as a barn that might perhaps be for cattle or chickens. There are a couple of other pastures which appear to be in use for growing crops, and there is a good number of vegetable patches at the front of the property, along with an enormous greenhouse. 

The house itself looked nice, if a little dilapidated. There is a porch running along the front facade (because of course there is) and it seems to continue at right angles on both corners. The whole thing - house and porch - seems to be wooden, as though it hasn’t changed in a century or more. Nicole can imagine the McCready’s old-timey cowboy relative out here, donning a Stetson and spurs. 

To the right of the house (and set a little back from it) is an enormous, wizened old tree, and Nicole thinks she spies a little treehouse nestled amongst its branches.

Curtis kills the truck’s engine and beats Nicole to the back of the truck to pick up her suitcase and wheel it towards the house. 

Feeling more resigned than ever, Nicole collects her backpack and stuffs her book - now more than half finished - into one of the bags. Silently she follows Curtis towards the front door. 

Nicole had half-expected the three women of the house to be waiting for her and she is relieved when nothing of the sort happens. Curtis lets Nicole into the house, indicating that she should step indoors first. He follows and stamps his boots on the doormat, before unlacing them in a pointed sort of way that indicated that Nicole should remove her own sneakers too.

Not bothering to bend down, she steps onto the heel of one shoe and wriggles her foot out, before mirroring the action. She nudges both ratty old sneakers - laces still tied in a tight knot Nicole is not sure she could undo if she wanted to - to one side of the mat. 

She takes a moment to observe her surroundings and finds even the entryway to be remarkably homely in its decor. The family has what is obviously a handmade wooden key rack by the door, and a chest of drawers on the opposite side of the space that sports a nice set of candles and a rather artful bowl of shells and pebbles. 

After a moment in which Nicole tries to make her observations as surreptitious as possible, Curtis leaves his own boots beside Nicole’s sneakers.

“My wife,” he murmurs quietly. “She likes an orderly home.” 

He flashes Nicole a playful smile, as though this is some sort of inside joke between them, but before anything more can be said, the woman in question emerges into the hallway. 

The first thing Nicole notes is that Mrs McCready looks more stern than her husband, and Nicole thinks that she will not be half so patient with any walls or barriers Nicole tries to put up around herself. 

All the same, when Curtis’ wife smiles, the expression is warm and genuine and Nicole thinks that she is probably just as kind and good-natured at heart as her husband.

At the very least, she regards Nicole carefully and seems to understand that she is probably tired and overwhelmed. She beckons Nicole over so that they can shake hands, and the older woman seems happy to openly give Nicole an unabashed once over.

“Yes well, we certainly need to give you a few good meals to perk you up,” she says briskly, before dropping the stern tone to her voice and adding, “but you’re very welcome here, Nicole.

She squeezes her hand over Nicole’s bicep for a moment, in a soft but short-lived gesture that she seems to second guess the moment she sees Nicole’s expression shift.

It is not that the unexpected contact is unwelcome or uncomfortable for Nicole, just that she is not all that used to people offering her much in the way of physical touch - not since Shae, at least - and she is not entirely sure how to react, or why that one simple gesture had brought a lump to her throat. 

“I know it’s getting a bit late but I’ve made some dinner for you, I’ve got the girls finishing up as we speak. I’ll get Waverly to come out and show you to your room - I assume my husband has explained you’ll be sharing with our youngest?”

Nicole nods, aware she has not yet said one word to Gus. 

“Well then in that case, you come on in and I’ll just get Waverly from the kitchen.”

She bustles off and still Nicole says nothing. It is too much, all of it. From the new house that feels entirely like someone else’s home and not her own (because, of course, that is precisely what it is), to the insistent kindness shown to her already by her hosts, to the unsettled, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that reminds her how desperately she doesn’t want to be here, Nicole hates every part of how this situation is making her feel. She felt completely like an outsider, and it was jarring and painful. 

Instead of really being able to process everything, however, Nicole is quickly confronted with yet another problem. Her name is apparently Waverly, and she is easily the most beautiful girl Nicole has ever seen. 

She had expected Curtis and Gus’ niece to be some small town stereotype, and perhaps to a very limited degree she is, especially based on what Curtis had said of her personality. In appearance, however, she is just all-round disarmingly attractive. She is small and slight and very obviously strong if the definition in her arms is anything to go by. She has collected her long, long brown hair into a loose, high ponytail which shifts with every movement she makes. Much like her aunt and uncle, she wears a genuine smile when she greets Nicole, and it lights up her whole face which is itself exceptionally pretty in a rather unassuming way. 

Nicole cannot help but consider this yet another sign of her perpetual bad luck.

The absolute last thing she needed was for her roommate to turn out to be the kind of girl who could put butterflies into the stomach of even the most defensive, closed-off version of herself that Nicole could project. 

In actual fact, Waverly is so pretty that it takes Nicole a moment to register that she is introducing herself and holding out her hand. At Nicole’s delay, a modicum of doubt creeps onto the other girl’s face. She flashes a quick, uncertain glance at her uncle.

“It is Nicole, right?” At Nicole’s nod she brightens again and adds, “great, hi. I’m Waverly. It’s good to meet you.” 

Eventually, Nicole springs into action enough to shake Waverly’s hand. The other girl’s palm is smooth and cool despite the warmth of the house, and the temperature difference sends tingles over Nicole’s skin.

“Yeah, uh, nice to meet you too,” Nicole manages to say eventually, and it is easily the most genuine she has sounded all day. She wants to kick herself for allowing Waverly to disarm her so quickly. 

“I take it Uncle Curtis told you we’d be sharing a room?” Waverly asks, seemingly willing to let the stilted introduction slide. Nicole finds herself reverting back to what is fast becoming her customary mute nod. It just feels safer that way. Unperturbed, Waverly grins again. “Cool, well I’ll show you upstairs then.” 

Beside them, Gus nods approvingly. “Will you help Nicole with her bags please? And give her the tour of the house. I’ll call you both when dinner’s ready.” 

“Sure,” Waverly chirps before sauntering over to collect Nicole’s suitcase. She seemed to be the kind of person who is in a perpetually good mood, and Nicole thinks that perhaps that is the real key to the McCreadys' success stories, because Waverly feels kind of like sunshine, and Nicole supposes that, for some, that sort of thing might be infectious. 

Waverly leads Nicole upstairs - manoeuvring the suitcase surprisingly deftly - and to a room at the very end of the landing. 

“I got the biggest room,” she explains, seemingly chattering to fill the silence, “not including the master bedroom, obviously. But my sister wasn’t always around so it just made sense. There’s always been two beds in here though, so it’s a good set up for us to share now. I used to have sleepovers when I was little, and my best friend could always stay in the spare bed.” 

Nicole hums to show she has heard, and has to admit upon stepping into Waverly’s bedroom that it is a surprisingly large space. 

In fact, the room is spacious enough to accommodate two single beds, both lined up parallel to the other against opposing walls, with a good five feet of space between them - easily sufficient for a nightstand each. There is room enough left for a large wardrobe, two chests of drawers, a bookcase, and a vanity table and mirror.

It is a true luxury for a sole occupant, but still has ample space for two people, and Nicole feels the tiniest bit better at the thought that she and Waverly won’t be literally bumping into each other for the next few months. 

Waverly waits for Nicole to take in the space, and eventually Nicole is forced to turn to the other girl for guidance on where to set her things.

“Oh, sorry,” Waverly says, shaking her head and looking a little bashful. She jerks her head at the bed nearest the door before pointing to one of the dressers. “That bed’s yours. And I cleared out those drawers. You can put your clothes in there after dinner.”

Nicole nods and carefully sets her backpack down on the bed with a faded blue and white patchwork quilt. She realises too late that it was quite obvious which side of the room had been cleared for her, as she notes her empty bedside table standing next to one on which Waverly has neatly accumulated a digital clock, a little wooden coaster, a seemingly random assortment of crystals, and what appears to be one of those pink salt candle holders. There is also a knot of charging cables clustered on the floor in the tiny space between Waverly’s bed and her nightstand.

There is a book on her bed too, nestled amongst what can only be described as a veritable nest of scatter cushions and blankets. Nicole notes that she has spares of both items on her own bed, but they have been neatly arranged for her. 

As surreptitiously as possible, Nicole takes in the rest of the room and tries to gauge as many aspects of Waverly’s personality as possible. 

There are a few posters on the wall which mostly appear to be pullouts from music albums - Taylor Swift, Kacey Musgraves, Halsey - along with an assortment of photos which mostly feature Waverly and two other girls at various stages of their childhood. 

Evidently, Nicole is not being as subtle as she’d like because, almost shyly, Waverly says,

“You can put up some of your own stuff if you like. I mean, if you’ve brought any, obviously.” 

“I don’t have anything like that,” Nicole says, thinking of the boxy little room in her parents’ house that she called her bedroom. There was barely any wall space that wasn’t covered by her furniture, so Nicole hadn’t bothered to put up more than a few soccer photos - a couple of her own team, and a few magazine clippings of professional squads - and a miniature pride flag. 

“Oh, okay,” Waverly says. “Well if you get anything while you’re here, you can put it up.”

“Thanks,” Nicole replies, and although she has no ill-will towards Waverly specifically, she cannot keep a note of bitterness from her voice. So far, the McCreadys have been very accommodating and Waverly is only trying to be nice, but it feels like a bit of a bare minimum victory.

She’s thousands of miles away from home, but at least she can put up photos of the friends she never gets to see. 

Feeling an instant prickle of guilt, she watches Waverly’s expression tighten briefly. It is obvious that the other girl was unsure of exactly how to approach Nicole’s arrival, and Nicole understands that it cannot be nice for Waverly to suddenly have to uproot her own life too. In a way, Nicole is almost relieved that she is not the only uncomfortable one here. The only difference, Nicole supposes, is that she herself _ is _ a stranger here. Waverly is in her own home, and Nicole knows how much it sucks to feel uncomfortable in a space that is supposed to be your sanctuary. 

As a peace offering, she tries to soften her stance a little and meet Waverly’s eye.

Instantly, she regrets the gesture as she is reminded of just how distractingly pretty she is. 

Nicole wonders how much Waverly _ really _ knows about her, and if she has been told the real reasons Nicole has been sent here. There is every possibility that Waverly just thinks Nicole has done something so terrible she got herself shipped more than three thousand miles across the country. 

Trying her best to show that she is not someone unsafe or intimidating, Nicole casts her mind about for a topic of conversation. 

Her eyes settle on Waverly’s bookcase which is crammed full to bursting with books of all kinds. Stacked on the floor next to the shelves is a separate tower of books which have obviously come from a nearby library, if their plastic covers and stickered barcodes are anything to go by. Every single title seems to have some sort of relation to history, with many being related specifically to Classics and ancient languages. 

In order to offer another olive branch, Nicole says, 

“Do you like history?” It takes Waverly a second to catch up on Nicole’s train of thought, so Nicole adds, “your library books.” 

“Oh,” Waverly says, catching on with a bashful little smile, “yeah, kind of I guess. It’s uh...it’s just this thing I’m researching.”

Nicole nods, taking Waverly’s deliberate vagueness as a hint not to ask any further questions. 

“Sorry,” Waverly adds, “I totally should have moved them out the way of your bed.” 

Nicole shrugs. “It’s your room.” 

She is careful to keep any hint of churlishness out of her voice. She means what she said; why should Waverly move her own stuff around her own room, just to accommodate a total stranger?

“We should go downstairs,” Waverly says, changing the subject. “Gus will have finished cooking dinner soon.”

Without hesitation, Waverly leaves the room and, with a sigh, Nicole supposes she has no choice but to follow her. 

Nicole quickly realises as she is shown to the kitchen that she is not remotely hungry. 

It is clear that Gus has gone to quite a lot of effort, but Nicole cannot seem to shake off a heavy, sick feeling that had settled in her stomach a long while ago.

Before they settle in the kitchen, Waverly gives her a tour of the house. There are two bathrooms upstairs, and Waverly makes it very clear that one is for the girls’ use, and one is out of bounds on account of it being Curtis and Gus’ space. She shows Nicole the closed door of her sister’s room, as well as that of her aunt and uncle, before bounding down the stairs and leading Nicole first to a dining room that seemed to be used predominantly for storage.

“We usually just end up clearing it out for Christmas,” Waverly explains before moving on. She takes Nicole to a utility room by the back door, which seems to ostensibly be a laundry room with a large storage area for sets of mud-spattered jackets, overalls, and boots. Nicole is astute enough to recognise them as farm clothes. Elsewhere in the room, a washer and dryer whir away on their spin cycles, giving the whole area the comforting smell of laundry detergent. 

The utility room is connected to the kitchen, so they pass through twice on the tour without stopping.

Instead, Waverly leads Nicole to the family’s living room, which turns out to be a large and impossibly cosy (not to mention stereotypical) space complete with two battered brown leather couches, each one covered with a crocheted blanket, more bookcases, a couple of studded leather chairs, and a hearth that Nicole has no doubt will be lit all throughout the winter.

She can imagine how Waverly would find comfort in returning from school to a home like this, but the idea is still completely alien to her. Nothing about this place feels like it will be her home; this is someone else’s life and she is an intruder, here against her will to upset the apple cart.

“We eat in the kitchen,” Waverly says eventually, watching as Nicole scans a shelf packed full with DVDs. Next to it in one corner of the room is an armchair, a large spider plant, and a battered old turntable flanked by stacks of vinyl records. 

Nicole looks away from the little cluttered, homey nook and allows Waverly to lead the way. 

The kitchen, when she finally gets to see it properly, turns out to be just as much of an old farmhouse staple as the rest of the place, and it is warm from all the cooking Gus has been doing. From the looks of things, she has made enough mashed potatoes alone to feed an army, along with what appears to be some kind of beef stew. She is just dishing the food up onto separate plates when Nicole and Waverly arrive. 

They attract the attention of a dark-haired woman slouched in one of the chairs at a round wooden table. She turns to look at the two girls, and Nicole recognises her instantly as one of the people in Waverly’s photographs. 

“This is my sister, Wynonna,” Waverly says, immediately leaving Nicole and drifting to collect glasses from a wall-mounted cupboard. 

Like her sister, Wynonna holds her hand out for Nicole to shake. Her grip is tight - testing, almost - and she holds Nicole’s eye while they grasp hands. When Nicole does not back away, something akin to a look of satisfaction passes over Wynonna’s face.

“Also known as the Earp family screw-up,” Wynonna offers with a slanted, sideways grin. 

“_ Wynonna _,” Gus scolds, throwing a frustrated glance over her shoulder in Wynonna’s direction. 

Nicole must look a little confused at the interaction, because Wynonna adds, “Gus is our mom’s sister. We’re still Earps, not McCreadys. I don’t get to claim being a McCready screw-up.”

Suddenly the connection to the historic lawman - _ Wyatt Earp _\- makes a little more sense.

“Well I’m the family screw-up too, apparently,” Nicole says quietly, and Wynonna gives a short bark of a laugh, gesturing for Nicole to sit down next to her. 

“Birds of a feather, and all that,” Wynonna mutters sarcastically as, looking briefly to Gus and Waverly, Nicole takes a seat. 

It felt nice to have an interaction with someone who wasn’t awkward and eyeing her warily. Although Gus and Curtis had done a good job of ploughing through any potential for stilted introductions by simply filling silence, it was obvious that they were sounding Nicole out.

Wynonna, on the other hand, seemed totally unphased by Nicole’s sudden presence in the house. If, as the rest of the family says, she has not long moved back home, it is probably not that strange to her. For all Nicole knows, Wynonna had experienced something similar during her period of absence. Perhaps she had even done something worse than Nicole.

Nicole had to admit that this possibility heartened her somewhat, although it feels a rather unfair thing to think. 

Before Wynonna can say anything more, Curtis enters the room and sends Nicole a smile. 

“Nicole, how are you settling in?” 

“Fine, thanks.” 

“Is there enough space in Waverly’s room?” 

“Yeah, lots. More than my room at home.” 

Curtis nods, looking satisfied with Nicole’s answer. She is speaking a little more freely now, although she knows she still sounds tired. 

Waverly appears then at the table, setting down glasses at the various place settings, all of them full with an assortment of different liquids. 

“What do you want to drink?” Waverly asks, and before Nicole can respond Wynonna butts in with a sarcastic quip.

“We keep our beers in the fridge.” 

This makes Nicole chuckle to herself, just as quickly as it wins a reaction from the other women in the room.

“_ Wynonna _,” Waverly chides, but it is clear she is half joking. Gus, on the other hand, throws up her hands and cries, 

“Oh for _ goodness _ sake, is that really necessary?” 

“A joke? Yeah, I’d say so,” Wynonna retorts. “Lighten the mood a bit.” 

Gus looks almost thunderous, so Nicole bypasses the conversation entirely in favour of looking up at Waverly. She is staring at Nicole already, as if waiting for an answer, and their eyes meet unexpectedly. 

It makes an odd bout of goosebumps break out on Nicole’s skin which in turn gives Nicole the desire to kick herself. She needs to get better at anticipating the pretty angles of Waverly’s face before they prove to be a disastrous cause of her downfall.

“Just water is fine, thanks.”

Waverly drifts to the sink, fills up Nicole’s glass and another for herself, before setting them both on the table and sitting down on Nicole’s other side. Gus puts down five enormous plates of food, and takes her own seat. 

For a moment, Nicole wonders if they are the type of family to say grace, but instead there seems to be a pattern in which everyone else waits for Gus, as the main provider of the meal, to pick up her cutlery. 

“Well,” she says ask she spears a carrot on her fork, “what are you all waiting for?” 

At that, everyone else begins to eat, and Nicole takes this as permission to begin her own meal. She still does not much feel like eating, but she gingerly tries a few forkfuls of mashed potato to see whether it might settle her stomach. 

It was a relief that the family did not seem to be religious. It had been a consideration of Nicole’s when she found out she was going to be sent to the middle of the countryside. There is still a certain stereotype, and Nicole almost feels bad for buying into it. 

It is not that Nicole has a problem with religion in theory, but in practice she had often had the kinds of bad experiences that put many LGBT people in a difficult position with regards to theism. 

Her parents were decidedly _ not _Christian, but Sunday School had been a good way to palm Nicole off at the weekends. They had just about managed to enforce her attendance until Nicole was fifteen, at which point she got kicked off the scheme when she was caught smoking cigarettes behind the church. That was during her one-woman rebellion mission a few years ago; at a time when she was still naive enough to think that bad behaviour would get her parents’ attention and convince them to start caring. 

Still, Nicole had worked out by that time that she was gay, but had had the misfortune of spending time with a youth group leader who was far from tolerant. For her own sanity, she stayed closeted around the guy, but she was well-known for challenging his pitifully stereotypical assertions that anyone like her was setting themselves up for a one-way ticket to burn in hell. 

As such, she had worried that Curtis and Gus might send her to church, or that Waverly might be some kind of model Christian country girl, and Nicole would be forced to relive her prepubescent youth for the next few months. 

She was prepared to accept small victories as and when they presented themselves to her, and this development seemed to be just such a thing. 

Still, her luck does not extend to conquering her nausea, which only seems to intensify with every mouthful of food she tries to force down. 

Waverly is the first person to notice that something is wrong. 

She tries first to send Nicole a querying look, perhaps so as not to attract the adults’ attention - but when, after trying to imply with a tight smile that everything is alright, Nicole is still slow to eat, Waverly asks,

“Are you okay?” 

Nicole nods fervently, trying to will her answer to be true. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” 

“Is the food alright?” Gus asks, and if she is put out by Nicole’s lack of appetite, she manages to hide it well. “They didn’t tell us about anything you didn’t eat, but I have extra of Waverly’s food if you don’t eat meat.” 

Nicole glances to Waverly’s plate and notices for the first time that her food is different to everyone else’s.

“Yeah, if you eat her vegan food then you’ll probably actually make her really happy,” Wynonna jokes around a mouthful of green beans. “She won’t be the only picky eater in the house then.”

“_Shut up_,” Waverly says, going a little red and mumbling. “I’m not picky I just don’t want to eat stuff from animals. It’s gross.” 

“Can you two _stop_ bickering while our guest is trying to speak?” Gus interjects, and all attention suddenly turns back to Nicole. 

“I’m not vegetarian or anything, and the food is really delicious,” Nicole says quickly, desperate to keep her mouth shut as she seriously considers the possibility that she might be sick. “I just don’t feel at all well, I’m sorry.”

This announcement earns a couple of concerned glances from Gus and Curtis, and Nicole supposes her refusal to eat probably is a cause for remark. She knows she is thin for her height - she knows too that she never used to be; she used to be filled out and lean and pretty toned - and is aware that Gus and Curtis have almost certainly been told about her recent struggles without her parents. 

“Well, it’s been a lot of upheaval for you recently,” Gus says, softening her tone and looking at Nicole more kindly than she has done since they met. “And you do look very peaky. Don’t force yourself to eat; luckily enough we have a human garbage system here known as my husband.”

She sends a narrow glance at Curtis, but her mock sternness is entirely belied by the flash of an incredibly fond expression on her face. Something in the gesture makes Nicole’s heart twist a little, because it is precisely the kind of dynamic she had spent her whole life imagining parents _should_ send to each other. 

“What can I say?” Curtis returns, not looking remotely abashed. “Farm work is good for the appetite.” 

Nicole tries for a weak smile that she knows falls flat without even seeing her face.

In the end, she eats as much as she can but is relieved when most of her food is ultimately claimed by everyone else at the table, except of course for Waverly. 

When they finish, Gus stands and dismisses both Waverly and Nicole from the table. She addresses Nicole directly.

“Usually, you three girls will need to do the dishes together, but you really do look very drawn honey,” she pauses, casting an appraising look at Nicole’s face. “Not to mention that it must feel like nearly eleven-thirty to you. Waverly, go with Nicole. Make sure she gets a shower and gets to bed without getting sick.” 

Waverly nods and rises, casting a quick glance at Nicole to make sure she is doing the same. 

Still feeling sick and now thoroughly miserable, Nicole gets to her feet. 

As the two girls leave, Nicole hears Wynonna say,

“Since you’re feeling so generous…”

“_You_ have no excuse,” Gus retorts, but Nicole hears the playful note to her voice this time. “Go run the hot water.” 

Nicole walks away to the sound of Wynonna’s good-natured protests, and thinks for the first time just how painfully tired the change in time zones has made her feel. It had not necessarily been something she’d considered until now, but Gus is right - it absolutely feels like it should be getting on for midnight when, in actual fact, it was only ten o’clock in Alberta. 

“Do you want to take a shower?” Waverly asks when they get back to her room, and Nicole nods.

“Yes, please.” 

“We got a towel out for you,” Waverly says, collecting the item in question from where it was folded up atop the empty chest of drawers. She watches as Nicole roots about in her suitcase for her shower gel and pyjamas. “Perhaps, if you’re feeling well enough, you’d like to put all you stuff in the dresser? It might make you feel less like you’re living out of a suitcase.” 

Nicole thinks to point out that if she unpacks her clothes she _won’t_ be living out of a suitcase, but Waverly is just trying to help, so she keeps any sarcastic comments to herself. Waverly might not realise she is joking. 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll put my stuff away after my shower.” 

With that (and some final instructions from Waverly on getting the perfect water temperature) Nicole bolts for the bathroom, eager to be alone for even just a short period. Even accounting for the strange, uncomfortable feeling of being in an unfamiliar bathroom, it is the first time she has had more than a few seconds of privacy all day. It gives her time to think, and to reflect on all that has happened to her in such a short space of time. 

It truly feels as though she left her home weeks ago, and not just this morning. Already her old life feels like it is somewhere behind her, and it is a sensation she hates. The uncertainty of what the next days and weeks will bring still plays heavy at the back of her mind and is probably no small factor in what appears to be a persistent sick feeling.

She cannot help but think how this would all be so much easier if the family here weren’t so _nice_. 

Sure, Gus looks as though she has the ability to play bad to Curtis’s good cop, but it is clear this is only a guise she takes on when she has to. She appears to be the kind of person who cooks absurdly big meals - and more than one meal per night to cater to Waverly - simply out of love, and she was able to take one look at Nicole and know inherently that her claim of ill health was not a lie. By comparison, Curtis seems to be the kind of man who likes his simple life and is happiest out on the pastures, but still takes in waifs and strays for probably very little personal gain. 

Then there are the nieces. Nicole would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious as to how Waverly and Wynonna had ended up with their aunt and uncle, but she would never dare pry. Both the girls seem nice enough, and Wynonna seems like she could be pretty fun to hang out with if Nicole ever felt like testing any boundaries. 

She was still resolute in her conviction that she is not going to make an active nuisance of herself, but she is also curious as to just how much trouble Wynonna has gotten into in the past. This is especially so because Nicole is as certain as she can be that Waverly has never been in trouble in her life. There is just something about her which gives off that impression. She is nowhere near the bland, type-A goody two shoes Nicole was fearing - in fact she seems nice and pretty easy to get along with - but Nicole still gets the impression that trouble is something Waverly does not necessarily court. It probably makes having Nicole as her new roommate even more difficult, and Nicole finds herself feeling quite guilty for imposing on the other girl. 

But then, as she fumbles in the unfamiliar shower and ends up dousing herself in scalding hot water before turning the tap off, Nicole reminds herself that she did not ask to come here. 

Even now, she knows she would feel better in her own home, as shitty as so much of it was. 

Here, the house is better and the people are certainly nicer but there is no sense of familiarity and comfort for Nicole. Instead she is an imposition on everyone, whether those people feel that way or not. 

She steps out of the shower and dresses, and upon returning to the bedroom she finds Waverly laying on her stomach on her bed, scrolling aimlessly through something on her laptop. She has not bothered to turn the main light on, only switched on an assortment of fairy lights around the room. The glare of the screen casts her face in an odd, pale light that only serves to highlight the arch of her cheekbones and the pretty curve of her nose.

Nicole wants to sigh to herself. This wasn’t at all what she needed - or what she wanted, for that matter.

Waverly looks up as Nicole enters. “Are you feeling any better?”

Nicole pauses and considers the question for a moment. If anything, time alone to think has made her feel worse, but she knows that this is not what Waverly is talking about. Her stomach ache is no better either, but not wanting to engage too much on the subject she answers,

“A tiny bit I guess.” 

Waverly pulls a face that Nicole assumes is intended to show sympathy.

“Hopefully you’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.” 

“I hope so.”

As Waverly takes her own shower, Nicole unpacks her suitcase, deciding she might as well use the dresser until she makes her great escape early next year. 

All told, both girls are in bed just after ten o’clock. 

It feels somewhat awkward, both of them laying there with very little sense of if they should talk or what they could even talk _ about _. 

Nicole toys with the idea of putting her earbuds in, but is trying not to use her phone too much in case someone changes their mind and decides to confiscate it from her. 

No one has said anything more on the subject since her discussion with Curtis, and certainly no one has mentioned the laptop in her backpack.

She thinks perhaps they are going easy on her for the first night, partly because she is somewhat unwell. She wonders if she should just make the most of having unrestricted access to her music and messaging systems now, because by this time tomorrow they might be long gone. 

Almost as if he is a mind reader (and honestly, Nicole wouldn’t put it past him) Dolls texts her and her phone - put deliberately on silent to ensure no one else is reminded of its existence - lights up on the bed beside her. It is now well past midnight back at home, and Nicole is surprised that Dolls is still awake.

Casting a careful glance at Waverly and finding her attention fixed firmly back on her laptop, Nicole tries to unlock her phone as surreptitiously as possible. 

_ How’s it all going _? Dolls asks. 

Nicole spends five minutes typing and retyping her answer until eventually, she simply writes: _ I don’t know. I want to come home _. 

  
  


_ I’m really sorry Nicole.   
_ _ Are the people nice at least? _

  
  


_ They seem nice, yeah. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse to be honest.  
_ _ I feel like shit and I hate being here, and the fact they’re being nice to me just makes me want to cry. _

  
  


This is perhaps the most upfront and honest she has been with Dolls, and she is not really sure what the parameters of their relationship are in these circumstances. 

When he replies, it is clear he is at as much of a loss over the situation as Nicole herself. 

_ I wish I knew what to say to you. I’m just really sorry dude _. 

  
  


_ I get it. There’s nothing that anyone really _ ** _can_ ** say.  
_ I just have to ride this out.  
Just promise me that you won’t forget our deal._

  
  


_ I promise. No chances I’m forgetting. _

  
  


_ Also promise me you’ll let me play striker again once I get back _

  
  


_ Oh, you _ **** _better_  
_ Our goal difference is about to go way down from now on  
_ _ I’m totally pissed at you for that _

  
  


In spite of everything, Nicole finds herself smiling. Still keeping her phone as hidden as possible she types,

_ Wow. OK asshole.  
_ _ Kick me while I’m down why don’t you? _

  
  


_You know I live to mess with you_  
_ And I’ve now been denied that privilege  
Gotta get it in while I can._

  
  


When Nicole looks up from her phone, she sees Waverly looking over at her, and the smile Dolls had managed to draw out of her slides like butter from her face. 

“You don’t have to try and text under the covers,” Waverly says gently, her voice holding the odd timbre of someone trying, and failing, to hide some hint of emotion from their words. “I’m not about to go running to my uncle over it, although he may ask of his own accord at some point.” 

Now a little abashed at the somewhat hurt note in Waverly’s voice, Nicole feels a faint blush show on her cheeks. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs, “I didn’t mean to imply anything. It’s just like, my only link to my life back home and I didn’t want to take any risks.”

Waverly nods. “Honestly? Don’t tell my uncle I said this, but I’d hate having my phone taken away from me while I was away from home. I guess older people don’t get it, but our whole lives are on there.” 

Nicole nods, happy to finally hear a little something more from Waverly than just a ‘welcome to the house’ spiel. 

“Exactly. I just don’t want to lose access to it. Apparently my phone calls get monitored and I don’t want my messages to as well.” Nicole pauses and immediately worries she has said too much. Quickly, she tries to backtrack. “Not that I’d have anything to hide obviously but…” 

She trails off, having no idea of what more to say. Happily, however, Waverly just smiles again.

“But it’s a privacy thing, right? Honestly, don’t worry about the phone calls. I know it sucks but after one or two, if you’re keeping your head down here, it’ll just be me or Wynonna.”

“So when it’s Wynonna I have to be _ more _ out there with what I’m saying, right?” Nicole asks, trying for a joke.

Waverly chuckles. “She’d probably report people for _ not _ being rebellious enough. I’m sure that’s how she feels about me too.” 

This feels like information Nicole is not prepared for after such a short time, and she struggles to respond appropriately. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she says mildly, even though they both know that Nicole does not have enough foreknowledge of either sister to be sure of anything. 

Waverly gives another little laugh, but this one does not sound half so sincere. 

“Maybe,” she says and does not venture to say anything more. She does not go back to her laptop, however, and so Nicole casts about for something else to say. In lieu of anything better, she decides to investigate her fate for the rest of the weekend. 

“What will happen to me?” she asks eventually, after a pause so long there can be no doubt that the past conversation is over and filed away. “Tomorrow, I mean. What sort of stuff will I have to do?” 

Waverly shrugs, the gesture awkward as she lays in bed. 

“It just depends on what my uncle and aunt decide. He’ll probably just ask you some questions then request you do some work on the farm. We’re not a religious family so we don’t go to church every week. W normally just turn up when there’s community stuff going on and we have to show our faces - y'know, like fundraisers and such. So me and Wynonna - and you too now, I guess - get to be done with work by lunchtime normally, if we get up early enough.” 

At the suggestion of an early start Waverly pulls a face. Nicole, however, has nothing against rising early, at least in principle. Work on the farm does not sound quite so appealing, although Nicole cannot quite say why. She is fine with the idea of working with animals, and she is undaunted by the prospect of hard graft, but all the same is far from enthused at the thought of getting up tomorrow and heading out into the pastures.

She supposes her reticence has something to do with the principle of it all; she has been forced here and now she has to work for someone else’s business when she should be playing soccer. Reasonably, she knows she has to earn her keep somehow, but a less reasonable part of her simply reminds herself of how unfair this whole situation is. 

“You don’t like mornings then?” she asks, begrudgingly enjoying talking with Waverly. She has to admit that it is something of a novelty, ending the day with other people at home, people who don’t seem to hate the very prospect of merely speaking with her. 

Waverly grimaces again. “I hate them. Don’t you?” 

“Not really. I kind of like sleeping in, but I sometimes get up before school and go for a run.” 

Shaking her head and wearing a deliberately theatrical disapproving look, Waverly answers,

“An early run? That’s literally disgusting and unnatural.” 

Her delivery - so convincingly serious - makes Nicole laugh for what feels like the first time in months, although she knows this to be untrue. 

“I’ll be sure to keep my unnatural tendencies to myself.”

Waverly snorts to herself, and although far from graceful the sound is kind of adorable. 

“Don’t, I may need your services.” 

“Which means…?” Nicole prompts, only realising she is teasing when she hears her own tone of voice. 

“You get that very comfy bed and all this room space for the _ bargain _ price of being my human alarm clock for school?” Waverly suggests and Nicole laughs again. She hears the sarcasm and implication in Waverly’s voice immediately and it endears her to the other girl more in those few seconds than during the entire rest of the night. Something in Waverly’s voice belies the implication that she understands how Nicole must be feeling to be forced here, and then to have so much expected of her as the only return for being handed to total strangers against her will. 

“I’ll consider the offer very seriously,” Nicole says, still teasing. 

Waverly grins. “I’ll await your answer.” 

They both chuckle and the conversation peters to nothing. This time, the silence between them settles a little differently. It is not inherently comfortable yet, but it is now certainly not uncomfortable either. 

“I think I’m going to try and get some sleep, see if I feel better in the morning.” 

Waverly hums. “Okay. Do you need me to shut all this stuff off?” 

“No,” Nicole tells her quickly. “It’s your room, you should do what you want. But for the record, a little bit of light won’t keep me up.”

“Okay,” Waverly says. “If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Nicole says, rolling instinctively onto her left side. It has the unintended outcome of turning her back to Waverly, so as an afterthought to show she is not being intentionally rude, she adds, “goodnight Waverly.” 

“Goodnight Nicole,” Waverly murmurs back. “Sleep tight.” 

Nicole surprises herself at how leaden her eyelids feel the second she lets them drift shut. After a couple of deep breaths to unwind a little, Nicole _ sleeps _. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I'd love to hear your thoughts in a comment below, or on twitter @rositabustiiios.
> 
> Until next time, take care!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who've read so far! This chapter follows Nicole's first day with the McCreadys, and her first meeting with Stephanie Jones. Something tells me they're not very compatible people...

Although she sleeps quickly Nicole does not sleep well. She tosses and turns fitfully all night, and wakes up so frequently she is convinced that she saw every hour on the clock between almost 11pm and 7:30am, when Waverly’s alarm first sounds. 

Despite her prior assertion that she is a morning person, Nicole finds herself groaning into her pillow as she pays the price for a poor night’s sleep. 

She is surprised to recognise immediately where she is, and grateful not to have any odd moments of waking disorientation in which she forgets briefly that she is not at home. Instead she senses it immediately, the way the air has settled overnight in a way that is not quite familiar. Without even opening her eyes she pictures Waverly’s room behind her eyelids, and even hears the faint sound of the other girl’s even breathing somewhere on her right hand side. 

Desperate for just a few more moments of sleep, Nicole rolls over and feels herself drift again. She wants to keep her first full day in Alberta at bay for just a little bit longer, but is allowed only a short period of peace as Waverly’s alarm, now clearly in snooze mode, sounds again, louder and more insistent than the time before. 

Nicole finds herself groaning again, before rolling onto her back and fumbling about for her own phone. When she opens her eyes to the glare of the screen, she knows she will stave off sleep again now. 

Still, she makes no effort to move or get up, and it takes Waverly another three fifteen-minute cycles of her alarm before she finally sits up with an almighty moan. She had tied her long hair back in a braid while it was still damp the night before and, now dry, half of her top layers have escaped and assumed a frenzied formation of waves and curls around her head. 

She glances to Nicole’s bed and, of the two of them, seems to be the one that takes a moment to adjust to their new living arrangement. 

She grinds the heel of each hand against her eyes for a moment, before letting out a little tired sigh.

“You know, this is the total opposite of the arrangement we made yesterday.” 

It takes Nicole a moment to recall that she is now supposed to be Waverly’s secondary alarm system.

“You said I had to get you up for school. It’s Sunday.”

Waverly pauses and visibly thinks.

“Damn,” she says quietly, “can I get a do-over?” 

“Absolutely not,” Nicole says absently, still checking her phone. “Morning people still have workers’ rights too.”

This makes Waverly laugh. “The question is, do they deserve them?” 

Nicole quirks an eyebrow, feigning indignation. This makes Waverly laugh again. 

At almost the same time, a loud rap on the door makes them both jump. 

“Waverly!” Gus’ voice calls, “if you’ve got time laugh, you’ve got time to get up and get ready to help your uncle. Nicole too.” 

Clearly, she is not interested in a response, because they both hear her walk away immediately.

“She’s actually really lovely,” Waverly says quickly, casting a nervous glance at Nicole, as if her opinion on Waverly’s family somehow matters.

“I mean, they’ve offered to let me stay in their house,” Nicole points out softly, her unspoken implication sincere in her voice. She knows what bad, uncaring guardians look like. Gus McCready already seems like precisely the kind of matriarch who wants the best for and from her girls. 

A little of the concern fades instantly from Waverly’s face. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda their thing. Like, they took in me and my sister too, so…” Waverly says. “They care.” 

Nicole nods and smiles, deciding to leave the conversation there. She still privately thinks there is something odd about kids being flown across the country (she doesn’t even know who paid for her flights) simply for skipping school, but she supposes there are thousands of arrangements like her own in place. 

With that, they both make the unspoken decision to get up before Gus comes back. She does not seem the kind of woman who asks a second time. 

“Did you bring some old clothes you don’t mind getting ruined?” Waverly asks, drifting to her closet and rifling through. 

“I have an old shirt,” Nicole says, thinking of the old, holey shirt she sometimes used for particularly gruelling soccer training sessions. “But I’ll maybe just have to sacrifice a pair of pants.”

“I have a second pair of jeans,” Waverly offers, locating them eventually in the organised chaos of the top shelf of the wardrobe. She turns back to Nicole and sees the doubtful expression on her face. 

“What?” 

“I think there might be an obvious height and size issue.” 

Nicole had not necessarily had time to process it last night, but looking at Waverly now, she notices just how small and slight the other girl is, seemingly by nature rather than by any express effort. 

“They’re gonna be a bit funny at your ankles,” Waverly concedes before adding, as a joke, “and by the way thanks for the reminder I’m short. But you’re gonna fit in them.” 

Nicole still feels doubtful, but takes the jeans off Waverly all the same. They are battered and old, but very obviously clean, if very small. 

They both switch clothes with their backs to each other, in that awkward way of two people who do not know each other at all. It feels like being in a school changing room, and every fear Nicole used to harbour about straight girls getting the wrong idea comes flooding back. 

She does not know if Waverly knows she is gay, and she certainly does not know Waverly’s deal for sure, but she makes sure there is no room for crossed wires as she waits resolutely for some indication that Waverly is fully clothed before she turns back to face her. 

“See? They fit just fine,” Waverly says, completely ignoring the part where they are about five inches too short. 

“Apart from the length I guess.” 

“They’ll do for working, better than ruining your clothes. You ready?” Waverly asks kindly and, at Nicole’s nod, says, “come on then, Gus will have made us something delicious for breakfast.” 

They stop briefly in the bathroom to brush their teeth and wash up a little, and are halfway down the stairs when a look of horror passes over Waverly’s face. 

“Oh my God,” she exclaims, “I didn’t even check if you were feeling better. I’m so sorry!”

Nicole laughs. The idea of anyone checking up on her wellbeing is a laughable one, and she didn’t even notice that Waverly had not asked after her, let alone expected her to do so. 

“It’s fine, don’t even worry about it. I think I feel a bit better yeah, but I guess we’ll see when I try to eat.” 

“Okay,” Waverly says, still looking sheepish. “Because I don’t think they’ll make you work if you’re as ill as you looked yesterday.” 

Nicole silently wonders how bad it must be for a group of total strangers to realise she looked ill. It sort of catches in her throat, and she has no real idea of how to deal with others seemingly caring about her welfare. 

“I’ll let you know then,” she says, half wishing she did still feel as terrible as yesterday, just so that she could go back to bed and keep to herself. Being around just Waverly is fine - she is sweet and earnest and she seems to be a good empath - but spending time around the whole family still seems overwhelming. 

Also overwhelming, is the thought of doing tasks about which she is completely clueless, especially when she will have to complete them in front of people who presumably know exactly what they are doing.

When they arrive in the kitchen, Nicole finds the scene much as she had the night before. Gus, complete with floral apron, is buzzing about the kitchen like a very industrious bee, whilst Wynonna seems to do her level best to look present and engaged.

For the second time, Waverly is the one to gather cutlery and glasses and deposit them in formation on the table. 

“Do you like orange juice?” she asks, glancing up at Nicole. 

“Yes, thanks.”

The interaction draws the attention of the other women in the room, who didn’t seem to have noticed the girls’ arrival before. 

“Good morning Nicole,” Gus says, eyeing her carefully. “You look a little better than last night.” 

“I think I feel a bit better,” Nicole answers, “but I haven’t eaten yet…”

“Well, we’ve got pancakes on the go, and I’m cooking bacon for everyone but Waverly, so you can give it a good try.” 

Nicole nods, trying for a weak smile. 

She stands and waits as the other three work, hoping for some sort of direction or instruction, and eventually Wynonna sees her waiting. 

“You don’t have to stand to attention,” Wynonna jokes, “you_ can _ actually sit down.” 

“I just didn’t know if I should do anything.” 

“It’s basically all done,” Gus says, “you can help Waverly wash up the dishes later.” 

Nicole nods and finally takes a seat at the table.

She watches as Waverly fills glasses with juice and deposits them on the table. A moment later, she sits down and flashes Nicole a pointed look.

“She talks a good game about everyone pulling their weight, but Aunt Gus likes to have complete control over her cooking,” she tells Nicole in a conspiratorial whisper. 

She does not get a chance to respond before Gus starts passing out plates stacked high with pancakes. She leaves a communal plate of bacon and eggs in the middle of the table, 

“Wynonna go and tell your uncle breakfast is ready otherwise he’ll never drag himself away from those tomatoes.”

Wynonna pauses with a forkful of bacon halfway to her open mouth. With a grimace and a sigh she sets the fork down carefully on her plate and, grumbling to herself, prowls off to find Curtis. 

“Uncle Curtis really likes growing tomatoes,” Waverly says in an attempt to provide some context for Nicole. She had taken a banana from a bowl of fruit on one of the countertops, and had diverted her attention mostly to cutting it neatly into slices. 

“Perhaps a little too much,” Gus adds with a theatrical eye roll. 

“You all eat those tomatoes when all my hard labour pays off, so less of the cheek,” Curtis says, arriving in the kitchen just in time to hear the tail end of the conversation. 

Nicole listens as the family banters gently amongst themselves, thinking how foreign it is to her to see a dynamic in which a group of people cook several meals a day and sit around a table to eat together. 

As she considers this, she helps herself to a small amount of bacon and cuts up a tiny wedge of her pancakes. She takes a testing bite and finds that she no longer feels like she wants to throw up when she eats. She still doesn’t have much of an appetite to speak of, but at least she doesn’t feel completely terrible anymore. 

She eats in silence, letting the noise of the rest of the room wash over her, and only realises that she is being spoken to when Gus says her name a few times in a row. 

“Sorry,” she says, looking up from her plate. “Totally zoned out for a second.” 

“No matter, I was just asking if the food was going down a little better this morning.”

Nicole nods. “It is, yeah. I still don’t feel a hundred percent yet, but it’s better.”

It is Curtis who answers her with a gentle smile.

“We’ll get you fighting fit eventually, there’s not much that some good country air can’t cure.” 

Nicole smiles weakly, not entirely sure that anything at all can really cure the bone-deep fatigue within her. 

However, by the time everyone finishes breakfast, Nicole has managed to make a decent dent in her own portion. 

As she, Waverly, and Wynonna get up to do the washing up, Curtis says,

“Girls, once you’re done clearing away, I’d like Waverly and Wynonna to go and start the chores outside. Nicole, can you come back in here and see Gus and I briefly please?” 

All three girls nod and head off to wash up. Wynonna takes the lead in an affable, easygoing way. She turns to address Nicole.

“I’ll wash, you can dry, and then Waverly can put everything way - show you where all the stuff goes.” 

Nicole nods her understanding. “Okay.” 

“You know,” Wynonna goes on as she runs hot water into the sink, “if you’re this quiet all the time, you’re just gonna give Waverly _ carte blanche _ to chatter away nonstop. You gotta hold your own with her.”

“_Hey_,” Waverly cries indignantly, hitting at her sister with a tea towel. “I’m not that bad. Just because I like to talk to people rather than scowling at them and saying nothing.”

Wynonna squeezes an inordinate amount of washing up liquid into the water.

“Scowling and saying nothing is far more intimidating,” Wynonna retorts smartly. Nicole laughs and Wynonna gives her a pointed look. “See? She gets it.” 

“Just hurry up and wash some dishes already,” Waverly says, glaring at her sister. 

“Why? The longer we’re here the longer we put off going outside.” 

“And the longer we put off going outside, the _ later _ we’ll be out there. Let’s just get this over and done with.” 

This interaction surprises Nicole and, in spite of herself, she asks, “don’t you guys like helping out on the farm?” 

This question garners an immediate reaction. Wynonna snorts ostentatiously and Waverly gives her head an emphatic shake. 

“Dude, no _ way_,” Wynonna declares, right as Waverly wrinkles her nose and says,

“Not more than that, no.” 

“Why, did you assume we’d all be country bumpkins out on our farm?” Wynonna asks, affecting an accent before poking her tongue between her teeth slightly to show that she is joking. She dumps a stack of plates into the hot, soapy water in the sink and sends a veritable tsunami of dishwater onto the countertop. 

“I mean, I just assumed you grew up with it so you’d have learned to like it.” 

“I’ve learned to _ accept _ it,” Waverly amends. “And it’s not actually bad, especially because Uncle Curtis doesn’t really give us any of the really hard tasks, even though we’ve been shown how to do them. He just wants us to show willing; it’s all he’ll probably want from you too.”

Nicole accepts the first clean plate from Wynonna and starts to dry it. 

“By the looks of things, you’re gonna be an easier nut to crack than some of the other kids Curtis has found to take in.” 

“_Wynonna_,” Waverly scolds, clicking her tongue in disapproval. It seems that everyone is constantly saying Wynonna’s name in that gently chiding way. 

“What do you mean?” Nicole asks, fighting to keep a note of indignation out of her voice. 

“Well you’re talking to us and agreed to the first set of chores Curtis gave you, so you’re already a vast improvement on some of the other kids they’ve had here. Also you didn’t climb out the bedroom window and try to run away on the first night. That’s always a nice thing.” 

Nicole thinks of her plan for January and bites at her lip. True to her original plan she is not setting out to be too difficult or troublesome here, but she does not want to give off the impression that she will be compliant in every sense. 

She is just picking her battles right now. 

“Have people really done all those things?” she asks.

“Yes they have, but just ignore her,” Waverly advises, taking the first stack of clean dishes and putting them away. Nicole keeps a mental note of which cupboard they are stored in. “It’s what the rest of us do.”

“That’s downright rude,” Wynonna protests, still skirting the danger zone with the high water levels as she scrubs vigorously at an enormous frying pan. 

“Well then, it should be right in your wheelhouse.” 

They go on like this until all the dishes have been washed, dried, and put away. 

“What do you think your Aunt and Uncle will want with me?” Nicole asks, hoping she sounds curious and not apprehensive, as Waverly darts off to use the bathroom.

“Probably not a lot,” Wynonna answers in her seemingly ubiquitous underwhelmed way. She adds in a lazy shrug for good measure. “My guess is that they’re going to want to talk about your feelings and their expectations and shit like that. They usually just don’t spring that much on the first night.” 

Curiosity fully getting the better of her now, Nicole finds herself asking, “how many kids have they taken in by now?”

Wynonna shakes her head to show that she doesn’t know.

“I can’t even remember how many it was before I left for a bit, let alone how many they had while I was away. Your best bet is to ask Waverly.” 

Nicole nods, filing away a mental note to ask the question at a later date. 

“I suppose we’d better start,” Nicole says, biting her tongue against a desire to say that they all needed to accept their fate for the day. 

Wynonna gives her a wry, knowing grin in spite of Nicole’s attempts at tact. 

“Yep, let’s get this over with.” 

Nicole walks back into the kitchen, finding Gus and Curtis exactly where they left them. Awkwardly, she takes the same seat as before. 

“You wanted to talk to me?” 

Curtis nods and drains a cup of coffee as Gus asks,

“We just like to ask our guests what they think so far.” 

Curtis nods his agreement to the question. 

Nicole thinks for a moment, unsure of how to answer the question without offending the people in front of her. 

“Um, I’m still not sure,” she says with honesty, “I’m away from home. I don’t know how to feel.” 

“Would you rather be at home?” Curtis asks calmly. 

Nicole shrugs. “At least it’s what I know. I wouldn’t feel so out of sorts.” 

“I understand that,” Curtis says kindly. “You don’t feel at ease here yet, but it’ll get better.” 

Nicole keeps quiet, thinking to herself that she doesn’t want to have to sit and wait for this to feel less shit. 

“Tell us what you’re thinking,” Gus says, but it is a gentle request rather than a stern command. 

Nicole opens her mouth, looking between the two adults across the table. She tries to form the right words, and then gives up again.

“I don’t know how to phrase it. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m here, how I feel about it doesn’t really have any bearing, does it?” 

“Well, to address those in order: you may phrase things as you think them, I can assure that after a decade, it won’t be something we haven’t heard before. For what it’s worth, your feelings absolutely matter, Nicole.”

“They didn’t matter in court,” Nicole retorts, snapping without meaning to. Still careless of her tone, she adds, “they didn’t matter when I _ begged _ people not to take me away from my home. From my friends. From _ everything _I know and that makes me feel safe and secure. No one cared that I had hobbies and a pet and a job. And maybe it’ll get better here but I don’t want to have to wait weeks or months to not feel like I can’t be at ease. So yes, I would rather be at home.” 

She feels her bluster die out almost immediately. She knows speaking her mind and opening up won’t change things, and it just hurts to acknowledge how she’s actually feeling. It is better to just bury it deep and open the box again when she is home. 

“This isn’t intended as a punishment, Nicole, and I’m sorry it’s been made to seem that way because of the way you’ve been treated.” 

“I don’t mean any offence Mr McCready, but it doesn’t really matter how it’s intended. Because it _ feels _ like a punishment. And I don’t even get how I deserve this. I missed a couple of classes for valid reasons. How can sending me across the country even be proportionate to that?”

Curtis pauses as he takes in what Nicole has said. He turns to Gus and says, 

“Is there anything you’d like to say to Nicole? I want to process what she’s just said for a moment.” 

Gus nods. “Nicole,” she begins, “you’re here precisely _ because _ you don’t deserve all the things that have been happening to you. The judge gives us a full write up of your circumstances. You’ve been through a lot, and whether you know it or not, the way you’ve been forced to grow up has been taking its toll on you.”

Gus pauses and Curtis nods to show solidarity.

“In addition to what my wife has said, I want to be perfectly honest with you Nicole.” 

“That would be good,” Nicole says, voice still snippy and curt. 

“If there had been a program with available spaces closer to Ottawa then you wouldn’t be here with us right now. I know you’re struggling to acclimatise but I’m going to see that as our good luck because, believe it or not, we do this because we enjoy meeting with young people such as yourself and trying to help them.”

He pauses and Gus picks up the conversation again. Nicole wonders whether they practise this sort of thing, or if they are just so accustomed to giving this kind of speech that it is second nature now. 

“This sort of program is an alternative to putting kids into a foster system that acts - poorly, I might add - as a one size fits all measure.”

“The best alternative would have been for people to just let me be,” Nicole counters. “I’ve survived seventeen years like this and now, a few months before I become an adult, people are acting like I can’t cope. I’ve already proved I can cope.” 

“You were missing school, Nicole,” Gus points out gently. “You did a fantastic job, but the cracks were showing.” 

“I missed a _ couple _ of classes,” Nicole protests, feeling her frustration climb. “It wasn’t like I was actively truanting for the fun of it.” 

“But you did in the past,” Gus points out, again without a hint of accusation in her voice. “Was it a cry for help?” 

“It was what happens when you leave a fourteen year old kid unsupervised.” 

“Which, to me, demonstrates why being here can be a good thing for you. We can provide structure and a positive environment,” Gus says. 

“I don’t know how else I can say it,” Nicole cries in exasperation. “I lost _ my _ positive environment when I lost my coping mechanisms and my support systems and the one means I had to support myself financially. I’m not fourteen, I’m _ seventeen_. I’m not about to run riot again. I’d worked so hard to prove that, and no one even cared.”

Curtis takes his turn to step in. “I would argue that a lot of people cared about your hard work.” 

“But not enough to trust me.”

“We see that you’ve tried to earn trust, Nicole,” Curtis tells her. “And now you’re in an environment where that effort can be repaid with actual demonstrations of trust. Having to support yourself all this time _ has _ affected your behaviour, your outlook, and your health. The judge could see it and, speaking frankly, we can see it after less than twenty-four hours. Growing up with so much unpredictability is a huge hurdle, and I know you don’t believe us but we can see how well you’ve done.” 

Nicole just scoffs, feeling frustrated to the point of angry tears. She shuts her mouth and vows that no one here will see her cry. 

“To put it simply,” Gus adds, “this is _ your _ time now Nicole. This is your time to focus on your studies, to not worry about who’s going to be around when you arrive home from school, to not have to work doubly hard to provide for yourself. This is your time to finish growing up without the pressure of paying your parents’ bills or going days on end without food. This is your time for _ you_. You’re here with us now because you _ don’t _ deserve to be punished. We’re here to help. We just need you to work with us.” 

Gus’ words add another layer of emotion to the heavy lump already pressing at Nicole’s throat, and she has to dig her nails into her palm to stop the tears from falling. 

“What do you think?” Gus asks. “Are we going to work together?”

“I don’t know,” Nicole grits out, because this is too much, it is all too much to process. No one has tried to care for her before, and she doesn’t know how to accept help, or if she even wants it. Everyone thinks that things were exclusively harder because of her parents’ absences but some things had been easier. Voice cracking completely, she concludes, “I just want to go home.” 

At this, Gus’ mouth tightens almost imperceptibly but if she or Curtis are deeply frustrated by Nicole then neither of them show it further.

“Okay,” Curtis says with a note of finality in his voice. “We have time. Let’s do this step by step. Firstly, we are going to ask you to work on the farm this morning. You’ll be expected to do as much as Waverly and Wynonna do. They think I don’t know how much they dislike it, but I’m not as oblivious as everyone thinks. You’ll be able to shadow me for a few sessions, and then we’ll expect you to put in effort in various contexts of our lives here. “How does that sound?”

“Like everything else,” Nicole says sullenly. 

“By which you mean?” 

“It sounds like everything else in this process; I don’t have any choice, so what’s the point in asking me?” 

“We’re going to be opening a dialogue with you on everything,” Gus replies. “But we need you to talk back.” 

Nicole just pulls a non-committal expression. She will believe it when she sees it. 

“Okay,” Curtis says, “I think we’ve covered everything we can for now. We’d better join the others outside.”

He stands and indicates that Nicole should follow him. As they head outside, Nicole notes the first prickle of autumn weather in the air. It is far from cold, and there is a determined amount of sunlight poking through a few low, thin morning clouds, but it is clear that summer is at its end. 

“We’re just going to start you off on feeding some of the animals today. If you’re lucky, Waverly and Wynonna will have already finished clearing out our stables. We have six horses; a lot of people like to come up and go for riding lessons in the summer, and sometimes we even get tourists up.”

“Wanting the whole Wild West experience, huh?” Nicole asks, meaning for it to sound a little sarcastic. She has never understood the whole fascination with Western movies or the cowboy-brand of masculinity they promote. But then again, she supposes she is not the intended audience for _ that _ sort of thing. At any rate, she does not come across with half as much bite as she’d have hoped, and just sounds somewhat curious instead.

“I would think so. People like how peaceful it is out here.” 

Privately, Nicole thinks she agrees with this. She had always liked the remote places her parents picked for their vacations, even if she hated the music festivals for the pure reason that they were the recipients of her parents’ energy and concern during the trip. Nicole had loved taking herself off into the forest and exploring. Looking back she was lucky she never got seriously hurt, given that she spent most of her time scaling trees or rock faces. She had always had a bit of a thing about climbing; had tried a few free taster sessions at the local sports centre back at home, but she had never had the money to make it into a real thing.

Maybe she could see if there was anything like that out here. Of course, she’d have to persuade the McCreadys to let her earn money first. 

She and Curtis say very little more as he walks to her the stables. She hears Wynonna and Waverly chattering away to themselves as they approach, and Curtis calls out to Waverly to come and meet them. 

“How are you getting on?” he asks when she appears, knees and shins covered in bits of straw and hay. Her hair has fallen loose of her fresh braid again, some of the baby hairs pointing outwards or curling towards her forehead. 

“Fine, we’re pretty much done clearing up,” she says, wiping at her cheek with the back of her arm, as though she does not want to touch her hands to her face. 

“Nicole can join you now, you’ll show her what to do?” 

Waverly smiles over at Nicole. 

“Sure,” she says to her uncle before turning back to Nicole. “Come with me. Are you okay with horses?” 

Nicole has a soft spot for all animals and although in the past this has mostly revolved around cats and dogs, she cannot see it being a problem. 

“I don’t know, never really come into contact with one before.” 

“Well I’m sure my uncle told you that people come up here to go riding, so all of them are pretty chill around new people.” 

At this, Waverly starts rattling off a list of tasks that need to be done to look after the horses properly, most of which she and Wynonna have already completed today. 

“Doesn’t it sound great?” Wynonna asks sarcastically, cutting over her sister’s instructions when she mentions mucking out the stables.

Nicole does not exactly relish the task, but she had anticipated it being mentioned when she was told last week she’d need to pull her weight at the McCreadys’ place.

“I’ve had better Sunday mornings,” Nicole points out in a similar tone and Wynonna laughs. 

“It’s precisely as much fun as it sounds, but you sorta get used to it,” Wynonna says.

“And the smell,” Waverly adds. 

“You’ve basically had twelve solid years to get used to everything,” Wynonna points out. 

“I mean, some things are never gonna be totally pleasant, are they?” Waverly counters.

Wynonna glances over to Nicole and flashes her a knowing smile. “Horse shit high amongst them,” she concludes.

Waverly shakes her head. “Shit in general.”

“So count yourself lucky you’ve missed out on it today,” Wynonna adds.

Nicole nods solemnly. “Oh, I do.”

“Well don’t get too used to it,” Waverly jokes, “I’m not complaining about having _ two _ extra people to share this job with.” 

“You mean you’re _ not _ going to shelter me from all the hard labour?” Nicole quips back. 

Waverly lets out a sound that is half-scoff, half-snort. “Nice try. C’mon I’ll start you off with one of the horses.” 

She leads Nicole to a corner of the barn filled with equipment and boxes of food that the girls must have brought inside from elsewhere. She points out and names all the equipment, explaining what each thing is used for, and then describes the mucking out and feeding processes. It is mostly common sense, but Nicole allows herself to be shown around and instructed as Waverly wishes. 

Her mind is still on the conversation from earlier, in which Gus and Curtis had tried to tell her this wasn’t a punishment. It still sort of felt that way. It wasn’t the having to work on the farm, or what would probably be constant over-supervision and micromanagement. It was the fact that she had been completely isolated from her own life, and simply expected to slot into a new one. 

Even if Waverly and Wynonna seem kind, and even if - like working in the stable - a lot of it seemed like common sense, it all still felt painfully unfair. She tries not to think of how, if she was at home right now, she would have been able to play in at least one soccer match and then go to work and earn money of her own. Now, she was completely beholden on these two sisters showing her the ropes, and she hated it; she hated this feeling of being out of her comfort zone in the worst possible way. 

All the same, she keeps quiet and allows Waverly to lead her towards one of the horses, a jet black animal with an exceptionally neatly braided mane.

The horse steps up in its pen, and Waverly pets it gently on the nose. 

“Hey Buttercup,” she coos, “are you ready to meet your new friend?” 

The horse huffs slightly, batting against Waverly’s hand playfully. 

“We don’t really have our own specific animals,” Waverly says, turning back to Nicole, “but Buttercup is _ sort of _ mine. We got her and her two sisters when I was little and had just started living here. They were all really young, and had been kept in really bad conditions. They’re not literally sisters but they’re inseparable.” 

“She’s beautiful,” Nicole says, meaning it. There was something about the animals that, despite their size, was exceptionally calming.

“She is,” Waverly agrees in a murmur, still patting the horse’s nose. “She sort of chose me. I don’t go riding that often - I don’t really like it to tell you the truth - but if I do it’s always with this girl.” 

Waverly picks a carrot out of the tub of food they have brought with them, and puts in on the flat of her palm for the horse to eat. 

“You want to feed her too?”

Nicole shrugs. 

“Sure,” she says, mirroring Waverly’s actions. The horse scrabbles against her palm as it tries to pick up the carrot, but is otherwise heart-wrenchingly gentle with her. 

“See? She’s a sweetheart,” Waverly says, a note of pride in her voice. She takes Nicole through the relatively simple process of feeding them and leads her down the line to the next three horses which appear to be under her care. The first has a sort of red coat, which she tells Nicole is called ‘sorrel’, and is apparently called Blossom. By the time she has introduced a smaller Palomino called Bubbles, Nicole has twigged onto the connection. 

“The _ Powerpuff Girls_,” Nicole says, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Hey, I was like _ five_,” Waverly protests. “And they’re actually really good names for horses. Plus they’re each the right colour.” 

“Buttercup yes, Blossom okay, but I mean...Bubbles isn’t, _ y’know_...”

“That’s the one I contest too,” Wynonna calls from across the other side of the barn, where she is tending to three larger and older-looking horses. “But at least she didn’t name them after _ The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, _ like my Uncle did, so yeah. She probably still wins.” 

Nicole cannot help but laugh. “The old Western? Are you serious?” 

“Yep,” Wynonna says, popping the ‘p’ grandly. 

Waverly points to each of the other three horses in turn. 

“Blondie,” she says, drawing Nicole’s attention to another Palomino horse; it is the largest of the six and entirely befitting of its name. Then she moves onto the first of two piebald horses. “This one’s Angel Eyes - though we just call her Angel, obviously - and the last one’s called Tuco.” 

“In fairness they’re actually also quite good names,” Wynonna concedes, finishing up feeding the horse called Tuco. “It’s just a walking stereotype.” 

“At least he didn’t name them after some really stereotypical country singers,” Waverly points out.

“Right,” Wynonna agrees, “or we’d have ended up with like, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, and Toby Keith.”

This makes Waverly laugh, and Nicole has to concede that it is a really lovely sound. It is light and bubbly, a playful and buoyant sound, and when she smiles her eyes crinkle wonderfully at the corners. 

Quietly, Nicole reminds herself that her roommate is off limits. She needs to stop noticing these little details about her. 

Shortly after they finish giving the horses food, the girls clean up and get ready to move onto the next part of their chores. They talk Nicole through brushing the horses and checking their shoes, although Nicole is mostly told to watch rather than participate. Eventually, Waverly sends her off to look after the horse called Blossom. 

“Blossom’s the best with new people; she’s the one my best friend sometimes rides,” Waverly explains. “Actually, Chrissy is calling around later. I was hoping you two could meet, at least you’ll know more than one person before school tomorrow. I think you’ll like my friend, she’s nice.” 

This touches on yet another thing that has been preoccupying Nicole: being the new kid at school. 

It was going to suck whichever way she looked at it, but she can only imagine the school is going to be small, and somehow that feels worse. At least in her old school, it was big enough for her to blend in and sometimes even get lost entirely. Here, she could only imagine she would stand out like a sore thumb. 

“Are there a lot kids in your school?” she asks from Blossom’s enclosure, hoping to sound offhand. 

“A fair few,” Waverly answers, raising her voice to be heard. “I mean, obviously nowhere near what you’re used to, but our high school serves all of the towns of the Ghost River Triangle, which is this whole area, so it’s probably more than you’re imagining.” 

Feeling slightly heartened, Nicole hums to show she has heard. 

“So they have clubs and sports teams and stuff?” 

“Oh yeah,” Waverly answers, “we have most of the things you’d imagine. Debate club and cheer club; I’m on both. I also do gymnastics. We have sports teams too, obviously, or I’d have nothing to cheer for.” 

Nicole bites back a little laugh. Of course Waverly is a cheerleader. Of _ course _ she is. 

“Is there anything you want to sign up for?” Waverly asks when Nicole says nothing more.

“I dunno,” Nicole says, closing herself off again. Although it’s normally her go-to topic of conversation, for reasons unbeknownst to her. she suddenly doesn’t want to talk about soccer, or any of the other sports she loves. Besides, she is still nursing a worryingly injured leg. The cut hasn’t stopped hurting since it happened, but she had managed to keep it a secret. “It’s probably too late now anyway.”

“I don’t know,” Waverly tells her, sounding unconvinced. “I wouldn’t rule it out entirely.’ 

“I’ll think about it,” Nicole answers mildly, knowing she does not sound believable. 

The conversation peters out after this, and the three girls finish their chores in relative silence. After a time, one of the sisters flicks on an old portable radio, and a DJ’s patter intersperses a setlist of relatively stereotypical pop songs. 

All told, the three of them finish work before lunchtime, and they all traipse back inside in time to see Gus checking on an enormous roast chicken by sliding it half out of the oven. 

“Out of interest,” Nicole says as she and Wynonna stand at the door and take their shoes off, “does any of your food come from the farm?” 

This seems to amuse Wynonna greatly. She tips her head back and laughs, before gesturing that Nicole should follow her into the kitchen. They sit down as Gus flits about making lunch. 

“You suddenly feeling guilty about turning old Bessie out there into a burger?” 

“_No_,” Nicole huffs, feeling indignant. “I’m not about to go vegan - ”

“Don’t tell Waverly, she’ll be expounding its benefits within seconds.” 

“Well that’s what I was going to say - is that why she’s vegan?” 

“Not that I know of. We don’t really eat any of the animals here. We just get our milk and eggs from the cows and chickens, and we breed and sell the pigs.”

“It must kind of suck though right?” Nicole says, thinking to herself as she speaks, “having those strong ethics but living and working on a farm.” 

“Kinda,” Waverly says, appearing in the doorway and looking directly at Wynonna, “bathroom’s free.” 

She slumps down into a free seat before looking at Nicole. “But you kinda just get used to it.”

Wynonna stands with a luxuriant stretch. “I’ll be quick, you’ll have time for a post-horse shit shower before lunch.” 

“Wynonna, language,” Gus mutters absently, flitting over to the table with some mugs in her hands. She sets one down in front of Waverly.

“Sorry,” Wynonna says, pulling an expression of mock contrition. “Equine shit.” 

Both Nicole and Waverly burst into laughter at this, and Wynonna hightails it out of the room and up the stairs before Gus can say anything more. 

“I swear I don’t know what goes through that girl’s head sometimes,” she mutters to herself, but is forced to bite back an amused smile of her own. 

Instead of making further comment, she approaches Nicole with another steaming mug. 

“Do you drink tea, Nicole?” she asks. 

“I do, yeah,” Nicole says with a nod, and Gus passes the mug over to her. “Thank you.” 

“Not at all, thank you for going with my girls to the stables.” 

“Nicole was good,” Waverly says, and the unexpected praise leaves Nicole shocked. After all, she didn’t really do much. “The girls really took to her.” 

“Well,” Gus says with a smile, “that’s certainly good news. Now that’s all done you have a free day for the rest of the day. Curtis and I do some work at a bar in town, so we’ll be heading over there after lunch. Will you be alright with just Waverly and Wynonna today?”

“Sure.” 

“Waverly has her friend coming over,” Gus explains before turning to her niece. “Once you’ve finished your history project will you make sure you include Nicole in whatever you do afterwards? We’ll take Chrissy home after we get back from town - Randy knows that’s the plan.”

Waverly nods eagerly and flashes Nicole a big smile. “Of course. You’re welcome to hang out with us.”

Nicole tries to return Waverly’s smile, but she knows it looks weak in comparison. The idea of gatecrashing her afternoon feels painfully awkward. When Gus returns to cooking, she leans in and mutters,

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your plans.” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t be,” Waverly says with confidence. “Like I said, Chrissy’s nice. You’ll like her.” 

“Okay, thanks,” Nicole replies, thinking that she has no real intention of being that person who derails someone else’s plans like that. 

With little more to say on the matter, she and Waverly sip at their tea until Wynonna returns, damp hair soaking the shoulders of her t-shirt. 

“All yours,” she says to Nicole, who darts off to clean herself up. Admittedly, she did not get too involved with the really mucky work, but she is still amazed at how grimy she feels. By the time she has dressed in slightly less ratty clothes and returned downstairs, lunch is ready. 

She surprises herself by being able to eat a little more than at breakfast, although she is completely incapable of explaining her lack of appetite even to herself. Gus’ cooking is delicious, and Nicole has always loved food in the past. She supposes her body just needs to acclimatise to the new location and especially the new timezone. Although it is only two hours, her body probably still thinks it is two o’clock and well past the time for lunch. That she hasn’t really been hungry at all for almost twenty-four hours is a fact she ignores. 

As before, she and the other girls clear up the dishes and immediately afterwards Waverly excuses herself to work on some part of a school project before her friend arrives. 

“Do you think I’ll disturb her by being up there too?” Nicole asks Wynonna as they hang up the damp tea towels they have been using. 

“No, she’s proper into her History course. I don’t think even World War III would draw her away, except to document it for academic intrigue. But you’re welcome to just chill in the living room, it’s probably more comfortable.” 

They make their way together into the space in question, and it is the first time Nicole has seen more than a passing glance of it. It feels odd to think that she has only been in the house a day; Waverly’s whistle stop tour feels like weeks ago already. 

“So like, what can we actually do now that work’s over?” Nicole asks, sitting herself down on the couch as Wynonna takes the armchair. She has to admit that the room really is cosy, and of all the rooms in the house she has spent time in thus far, she already probably feels most at ease here. 

“Well, see, being so far out your options are limited,” Wynonna begins seriously, before dropping the facade entirely and adopting her usual sarcastic tone. “You’re basically stuck with wasting your life scrolling Facebook, watching TV, reading books, or otherwise your last option is simply dying of boredom to avoid prolonging the suffering. But at _ all _ costs refrain from hanging out with any of Waverly’s so-called friends. Except Chrissy, she’s alright except for her Dad being the Sheriff.”

“Hardly her fault,” Nicole points out reasonably.

“Well exactly. And like I say, she’s alright.” 

“What’s wrong with the rest of them?” 

“_Oh_, you’ll see soon enough,” Wynonna says, looking delighted in a way that does not fill Nicole with confidence. “School tomorrow for you kids.” 

“_Okay _ quit it. Just because you’ve escaped. No need to be smug.” 

“Don’t like school either?” 

“I like the learning part enough,” Nicole counters, pausing when Wynonna interjects -

“Okay nerd.”

“Very inventive,” Nicole bats back. “But no, it’s the other people I can’t always deal with.”

“Actually same, kinda.”

“Nerd,” Nicole retorts, poking her tongue out a little. She can see herself getting along with Wynonna well. 

“Well you’ve got the rest of the day before you have to deal with it. So long as you don’t choose the ‘die of boredom’ option.”

Nicole snorts. “No, I’ll probably go with reading a book.”

“See? I knew you were a nerd.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Gus and Curtis leave the house a little after Nicole collects her book from Waverly’s room and starts reading in the living room. They come and say goodbye to both her and Wynonna, and they tell them when they’ll be back.

“We’ll call if anything changes,” Gus assures them, eyes lingering a little over Nicole’s face. 

Nicole, who hasn’t really looked up from her book, only catches the look out of the corner of her eye, but she suspects Gus and Curtis want to know if being left to her own devices puts her back in her comfort zone.

It annoys Nicole because their suspicions are right; she eases up immediately at the thought of being left on her own. Admittedly, she has Wynonna and Waverly around, but Waverly will have her friend to divert her and Nicole already knows that Wynonna won’t remotely care about what she does for the rest of the day.

It is not that she has any grand plans outside of lazing around and reading, but there is something good about knowing she will be able to do so without comment from others. 

For her part, Wynonna also stays mostly glued to her phone. 

“Okay,” she mutters, evidently not really listening.

“There’s food for sandwiches in the fridge, and I made a chocolate cake this morning which is in the cupboard.”

“Cool, thanks,” Wynonna returns distractedly.

“I’m so glad we can command your attention so well, both of you,” Curtis jokes and, coming to the end of her page, Nicole finally glances up.

“Sorry. Good bit.”

“And…?” Curtis prompts.

“And I was listening; you’ll be back at eight, there’s food in the kitchen, you’ll call if you’re gonna be late.” 

Gus pulls an impressed expression. “Well, at least one of you is going to listen.” 

They make their goodbyes and Wynonna sighs to herself.

“Peace at last. For now.” 

Nicole chuckles, shifting on the couch so that she is sprawled out on her back. 

“Do they really get at you that much?” 

“I mean,” Wynonna begins, obviously considering the question carefully. “They could totally be worse. But I wasn’t kidding about what I said last night. I’m the family fuck up. Waverly’s the poster child. That’s totally not her fault and I’m not holding it against her. I’m glad she’s doing better than me. But it just kind of means that Gus and Curtis have a lot to call me out on, especially when compared to her.” 

“I guess I’ll be in the same boat then.” 

Wynonna shakes her head. “Something tells me you really, really won’t. You’re nowhere near the level of most of the kids they get here. I don’t even know why you _ are _ here.” 

“Skipping school,” Nicole answers, leaving out the part about her parents. She is content for that information to stay with the adults. She doesn’t want anyone else dissecting her family life, and she doesn’t want anyone’s pity, not that Wynonna seems the type. 

“Just that?” Wynonna asks, sounding genuinely shocked. 

“I guess, yeah. I mean, I stole some food the other week, but no one knows about that.” 

“What did you steal?”

“Like, some chips and a couple of bananas?” 

“Not even that badass,” Wynonna jokes and Nicole laughs. 

“Good job I wasn’t trying then huh?” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night nerd.” 

Nicole laughs again. Wynonna really _ is _ pretty cool. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Waverly’s friend arrives before two o’clock, but she doesn’t come alone as expected. From the front door, both Nicole and Wynonna hear her announce: “Steph and Rach wanted to come along too.” 

Nicole has no precedent to really go on for either Waverly or her friend, but the visitor’s voice sounds oddly strained, as does Waverly’s when she replies. 

“Oh! That’s great! Come on in everyone,” she says, but even Nicole can hear the surprise and disappointment in her voice.

In the living room, Wynonna groans.

“Oh yeah, _ great_,” she echoes, her tone acerbic. “Just fucking fantastic.” 

Nicole raises her eyebrows. “Problem?” 

“Just that Stephanie Jones and Rach Leavey are Grade A assholes.” 

This genuinely surprises Nicole. Waverly doesn’t seem the sort to entertain that kind of negativity but, really, what did she know? 

She returns to her book without much remark, but with their numbers doubled, Waverly’s plans to study in her bedroom seem to be utterly derailed. Instead she stations herself and her friends around the kitchen table, meaning that Nicole and Wynonna can hear everything through the open door. 

There is a moment in which everyone moves around; chairs scrape and bags are unzipped, and papers are shuffled about on the table. 

Then one girl - Nicole assumes she is one of the assholes - says,

“Wait, you’re not _ actually _ going to study are you?” 

“That’s literally what I came over here for,” another voice which sounds like the best friend returns. 

“Well it’s fucking boring,” the original voice replies.

“We’re nearly done, we won’t be long,” Waverly interjects, sounding far too apologetic for Nicole’s liking. 

Apparently, it is not to Wynonna’s liking either because, under her breath, she mutters, 

“Go fuck yourself Steph.” 

All the same, Nicole hears and chortles to herself. “I already see what you mean.” 

“Right?” Wynonna says quietly. “My sister can do better for friends. Unfortunately, a lot of the kids in her grade are just brats.” 

“Great, thanks for the pep talk for tomorrow,” Nicole grumbles, feeling her heart sink. This is precisely the kind of thing that will test her resolve to go to this new school day-in day-out until January. 

“Shit, didn’t think of that,” Wynonna replies, looking genuinely sorry. “Well, know your enemy and all that. For the record, Steph isn’t anywhere near as big as you. I think you could take her.” 

Nicole chuckles. “Hate to tell you but I’m a lover not a fighter.” 

“So that was never one of your misdemeanours?” 

“Nope, never. I tend to steer clear of the kids I don’t like; I just want to mind my own business, you know?” Nicole says.

“Well shit. Then they go and drag you here to have your every move scrutinised.” 

“_Wow_. At least someone gets it.”

“Honestly, pro-tip? Just toe the line. I know it sucks but the more you just go along with all the psychobabble bullshit, the more freedoms you’ll get. Even if you just pretend you’re invested in all this crap. It’ll get you through.”

“Should you be telling me all this?”

“Absolutely not, but I know how it feels to have them drag you somewhere you don’t want to be.” 

Nicole cannot hide her surprise at this. “You do?” 

“Yeah. I’m not exactly about to go into details so you’ll just have to trust me. Or not. It makes no difference to me.”

“Are all your pep talks this inspiring?” Nicole asks with a grin and Wynonna launches a cushion at her.

“If you want to be an asshole go sit in the kitchen with the rest of them.” 

In the next room, one of the assholes is rabbiting on about some non-issue high school drama. 

“No damn way am I going in there. It’s bad enough hearing about Bethany Lakeford’s sex life from here - whoever she is. If any of this is even true.”

“Oh, knowing Stephanie I highly doubt it’s even close to true.”

For a while, the only two voices that can be heard in the other room are the ones Nicole assumes belong to the people that Wynonna deems assholes. From the way they talk about the people in their grade, Nicole certainly thinks ‘asshole’ is a good way to describe them. 

She gives up all pretence of reading her book and joins Wynonna in unabashedly eavesdropping on the conversation in the kitchen. 

After a while, she hears Waverly and her friend discussing their presentation, usually followed by one of the other girls egging them on to simply ‘wing it’ on the day. 

Nicole feels oddly defensive on Waverly’s part, despite not really knowing her at all. If she, Nicole, had been dragged into this house against her will and could still be respectful, then what exactly was these girl’s problem? 

“Has Champ Hardy been texting you at all?” the one that Nicole is beginning to see as the ringleader asks, a note to her voice that Nicole very obviously lacks the context to decipher. 

After a pregnant pause, Waverly speaks. 

“No,” Waverly answers bluntly. “Why would he have been?” 

“Well, he seemed pretty into you at the match last weekend. I thought you might have started texting or something.”

Waverly scoffs. “We were there in our cheer outfits. He’s one of _ those _ kinda guys. He probably would have hit on any one of us.” 

“So?” comes the reply. “Why does that mean you can’t try your luck?”

“Because I don’t want to maybe? He’s a bully and a cheater, you’ve heard what Karen said about him.”

“Okay,” the chief asshole responds. “That’s your choice I guess.” 

It should have been a diplomatic enough answer, except that she manages to convey through tone alone just how stupid a choice she thinks it is. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Waverly asks, sounding a little prickly. 

“It means that no one else has been interested since Jacob White two years ago. People aren’t gonna line up to date an Earp. Especially not when you live on a farm and house psychos in your room.” 

At this, Nicole catches Wynonna’s eye and they both watch as the other visibly seethes. 

Neither of them says anything, but it is clear that their tempers have both been piqued in equal measure.

They wait for Waverly’s response but either it does not come, or else she speaks too quietly for her words to carry into the next room. 

After more silence, the assistant asshole asks,

“Since you guys are _ finally _ done being boring, can we go sit in the living room and watch TV?”

“Um, I’m pretty sure my sister is in there. And we have a new lodger, I think she’s there too. I’ll check though.” 

“You have another?” chief asshole questions, sounding incredulous. “For real? Does your family even think of you at all? You shouldn’t have to put up with psychos and criminals under your roof. It’s weird as fuck that you live like this Waverly.” 

“Can you stop saying that word? It’s offensive. And it’s not weird that we do this,” Waverly says, sounding genuinely hurt. “My aunt and uncle just want to help less fortunate kids. That’s not weird at all.” 

“For real, after all the stuff with Wynonna, I think you’re just so used to weird by now that you don’t even see it. Like honestly? If they’re in there just tell them to leave. Tell them it’s a freak-free zone today.” 

“Steph, that’s not okay,” the best friend interjects, but her voice is quiet and subdued, as if she too does not want to upset the apple cart too much. 

“Nothing about any of this is weird, and saying ‘freak’ is no better than saying the other thing,” Waverly replies, but it is without the sort of force or conviction Nicole would expect from anyone who had just been so unfairly treated. In fact Waverly sounds almost like she is imploring this other girl to believe her. “Our new guest is nice. She’ll be coming to school tomorrow so please be nice back to her.” 

At this, Nicole finally summons up the wherewithal to talk to Wynonna.

“I hope to God she’s not nice to me,” she grits out quietly, “I’ll break my no fighting rule for _ her_.”

“Told you Stephanie was a dick.”

“I honestly thought people like her were just movie and book characters.”

Wynonna purses her lips. “She really is such a walking stereotype it’s sad. It would almost be too pitiful to hear if it weren’t for the fact that it genuinely upsets my sister.”

This surprises Nicole somewhat.

“For real? I’d have thought Waverly was smarter than that. Not that we can help our vulnerabilities, obviously.”

“She is, but she also just likes to be liked. It’s a whole thing. It like, harks back to our parents. If she ever wants to tell the story she will.”

Nicole nods, respecting Waverly’s privacy. 

Happily, Waverly chooses a moment in which Nicole and Wynonna are _ not _ talking about her to come and check whether the living room is free. Despite offering to come alone, it is obvious that the other girls wanted to join her. Probably, Nicole realises, they want a preview glimpse of the latest lost cause to grace the McCready homestead. 

“Sorry,” Waverly says awkwardly. “We just wanted to see if the room was free.” 

“Maybe it can still be that way,” a girl with blonde hair and a judgemental sneer on her face, “since it’s four against two.”

“Steph, you do realise some of us actually live here, right?” Wynonna points out darkly. “This isn’t Bentham’s Utilitarianism it’s: ‘this is my fucking house’.”

Alongside making a mental note to call Wynonna up on being an _ actual _ nerd, Nicole also finds herself thinking that that comment is probably entirely lost on Stephanie. 

“Well, like you said,” the other girl responds, eyes flicking pointedly to Nicole, “only some of you do.”

“I literally got moved into this house yesterday,” Nicole says, keeping her eyes fixed on her page. “In your infinite wisdom what part of that does _ not _ qualify for living here?” 

She feels rather pleased with herself when Wynonna snorts at the comment.

“Well you’ve only_ just _arrived here so I don’t think you should be calling the shots,” Steph shoots back. 

“I’m not trying to. I was trying to read and mind my own business. Plus, I could say the same about you, and yet here you are calling the shots,” Nicole points out, earning another snort from Wynonna.

The girl, Stephanie, narrows her eyes and sends Nicole a dangerous expression, one that tells her she has made a rod for her own back at school. But Nicole had never responded well to bullies, and this girl had that label written all over her. 

She finds herself angry for Waverly too, even though she has no right to be. Perhaps it is self-righteous and a little paternalistic, but it bothers Nicole that this girl had voluntarily come into Waverly’s home just to say a bunch of mean and unfair things. 

Nicole was here against her will and had made more of an effort than either Stephanie or Rach. 

She notices, however, that the other girl - the one she assumes is called Rach - has said absolutely nothing during this interaction, and it leave Nicole in no doubt as to the status quo here.

She looks briefly to Waverly and Chrissy, both of whom look awkward and uncomfortable, and feels a bit guilty for losing her cool so quickly. Feeling unsure, she glances next at Wynonna, to try and gauge what should happen next. For her part, Wynonna still looks angry and defensive, but when she meets Nicole’s eye the expression shifts a little bit.

“Whatever,” she says eventually. “You guys want it so bad, come sit in here. You staying?” she asks Nicole. 

Nicole shakes her head. “Far be it from me to call the shots in here.” 

This gives Wynonna another cause for amusement, before they both head off without saying anything more. 

Nicole spends the rest of her afternoon upstairs finishing her book and texting Dolls, feeling both happy and sad when he keeps her abreast of the soccer team’s progress. They had only drawn their last two matches nil-nil, and although she feels happy that Shae and her defence are still as watertight as ever, she wishes she had been there to make some movement up front. She is far from the team’s only goal scorer (and she is not arrogant enough to think so) but she knows that in reality she has her fair share of assists too. 

She feels pretty shitty by the time she hears Gus and Curtis return. She feels bad for taking the bait so quickly from a bitchy girl she doesn’t even know - in front of Waverly too - and she is hung up on letting her soccer team down by being sent away. 

She does not even bother to go downstairs and get herself any food, and instead just switches into her pyjamas early. She even dares to get her laptop out of her bag, thinking she can watch some TV before she realises she doesn’t actually know the WiFi passcodes.

After a brief moment of indecision, she calls by Wynonna’s room to ask for them, since she figures she’s the most likely to give them up without a fight. 

Sure enough, she doesn’t even question the request, just finds an old photo of the sticker on the router and shows it to Nicole who makes a note of the nonsensical string of letters and numbers in her own phone. 

She thanks Wynonna and makes to leave again, before pausing at the door.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure, but if it’s anything more technical than the WiFi password then I’m out. You’ll have to ask Waverly. She seems to like you, so she probably won’t tattle on us.” 

Nicole shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing to do with that.” 

“Then sure, shoot.” 

“It’s just - do you think I would have annoyed Waverly by being an asshole earlier? I just didn’t think things through - that girl seems like such a piece of work and stuff like that makes me angry.” 

Wynonna sighs. “Honestly? She’ll probably be more pissed at _me_ for being defensive. You kinda had a right to be since they were throwing around the kinds of bullshit words that aren’t okay. To be honest, I don’t think she even likes those girls, but they’ve started latching onto Waverly and Chrissy after _ years _ of being awful to them, and I’m personally worried about what they want from my sister. I don’t want to hold Waves back socially - not more than I already have at least - but I don’t approve of those people at all. And I certainly don’t approve of fucking Champ Hardy sniffing around my baby sister. That was news to me. And I don’t want her believing that crap Steph said about people wanting to date her. She can do better than any one of the kids from around here. That all worries the shit out of me, if I’m being honest. So it won’t hurt her to hear sense from someone who isn’t family - it’s easier coming from non-relatives sometimes, and I’m glad you stuck up for yourself. So don’t worry about it. Even if she is pissed she’ll get over it.” 

Nicole nods, not really sure if that answer helps or not. She doesn’t really want to piss off the person she has to share a room with; at least not in the sense she is currently worried about. 

Unsure of what to say to Wynonna in response she just thanks her again - for both the WiFi passcode and for the advice - before heading back to Waverly’s room, getting into bed, and hooking her laptop up to the internet. 

It feels nice to have that back, and she settles down with some old _ X Files _ reruns to try and take her mind off of everything. 

After about an hour, Waverly steps into the room just long enough to collect her pyjamas and pop into the bathroom, reappearing again later in her patterned sleep shorts and t-shirt. 

She glances to Nicole but gets into her own bed without saying anything, plugging her phone in to charge and scrolling through something on her screen. 

Nicole’s episode ends a moment later and she pulls out an earbud. 

“Do you need me to shut this off so the light isn’t on?” she knows that they had this conversation in reverse yesterday, but her question is mostly about testing the waters to see where she and Waverly stand. 

“No, it’s fine,” she says with a smile, and there is nothing in her demeanour that implies she is angry. 

Nicole likes to think she is good at reading other people, but also knows she is not above addressing issues before they can become any bigger.

“Did you manage to get your project done?” she asks. 

Waverly nods. “Just about. Sorry about the sudden onslaught of extra people. I really wasn’t expecting the other two to invite themselves around.” 

“No, I’m sorry I snapped at your friends, it wasn’t okay.”

“Steph was chatting complete and total shit about the people who lodge with us,” Waverly says, not quite meeting Nicole’s eye. It would appear that she is just embarrassed as Nicole. “She’s uh...well, I don’t think she’s my friend. Not really.” 

“You didn’t deserve what she said about you.” 

At this, Waverly looks a little emotional. “You don’t know me, but thank you for saying that.”

“And you don’t know _ me_,” Nicole points out, “but I’m still here in your room right now, and you’re still being nice to me.” 

“It’s not always easy, what my aunt and uncle do. But I think we’re going to get along, and that makes it better.” 

Nicole smiles. She cannot help but agree with Waverly. 

“It really does, doesn’t it?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I'll be back next Monday so until then take care


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again...
> 
> Thank you to everyone's who's read and reviewed so far.
> 
> This chapter basically just covers Nicole getting to school. I wonder who she'll meet...
> 
> Disclaimer that I've just evened out everyone's ages so even though I've mentioned people who wouldn't have been in Waverly's grade, for the purposes of this AU (and wanting to use canon characters) I've taken some liberties.

The next morning, Gus drives both Waverly and Nicole to school. 

As predicted, it is much smaller than Nicole is used to. In fact, it seems to be made up of only two main buildings, which Waverly explains divide up into a general building for all the kids, and a specialised centre only intended for seniors. 

There is also a small gym, and although the school doesn’t have much in the way of playing fields or sports courts, there is a space fit for purpose directly across the road which is apparently free for the school’s use.

Gazing out the window, Nicole wonders if there is a soccer field but knows that the likelihood of there being a girls team here is very slim either way. 

Gus pulls up in front of the main entrance, leaving the engine running in the parking lot as Waverly and Nicole climb out of the same truck Curtis had brought to the airport two days earlier. 

Gus leaves Waverly with the strict instructions of ensuring Nicole gets her schedule and doesn’t get lost on her first day. She also wishes Nicole luck which, although probably intended as a throwaway nicety, does not exactly fill Nicole with too much reassurance. 

Nicole does her level best to fix a confident, easygoing expression onto her face and prays to any force in the universe that she doesn’t look as nervous as she feels. 

She and Waverly step inside a pretty standard-looking school foyer and that, at least, heartens Nicole slightly. There is a reception to their right, past which is a little corridor that is clearly an administration block, with closed doors marked for the principal and school counsellors. To the left is a large wooden cabinet displaying trophies; there are far fewer than at Nicole's school, but the number of awards looks to almost be proportionate when considering the size of the student body here. 

There is already someone staffing the main office, so Waverly steps up to the desk to speak on Nicole's behalf with an official-looking woman sporting a rather severe black bobcut. 

“I’ve been asked to introduce a new student to you so she can get her timetable,” Waverly begins politely. “This is Nicole - ” 

She pauses, and Nicole realises her problem immediately. Waverly has probably never been told the surname of any of the kids the family takes in, but this seems to be the first time she has been confronted with the problem in public. Perhaps she had never been told to escort a kid into the school before. 

“It’s Haught,” Nicole supplies before Waverly has to ask her. “H-A-U-G-H-T.” 

She imagines that the school cannot have too many new starters throughout the year, but she supposes things might as well be done officially. 

The lady in the office nods and reaches for an A4 brown envelope that is lying ready for her beside a computer monitor. 

“Of course, we’re happy to have you here Nicole,” the lady says, without much inflection in her voice to convince Nicole that the sentiment is sincere. “Everything you need is in there. If you have any questions come and see one of us, but I can only imagine that Waverly will be able to tell you everything you need to know.” 

Nicole nods. “Okay, thanks.” 

She accepts the envelope and lets Waverly lead her off on a brief tour of the school. This mostly involves showing her some of the bathrooms, the senior common areas, and the cafeteria. 

“Lunch is always at one o’clock,” Waverly explains, “and we have a twenty minute recess in the morning between second and third period. I don’t know if we’ll have any classes together, but feel free to come find me in the breaks if you want. Did you check your locker number?” 

After some searching, they find the information written on a senselessly small slip of paper that had fallen into a bottom corner of the envelope.

“Ah, that’s in the same block as mine, perfect,” Waverly announces when Nicole reads her the number. “C’mon I’ll show you before first period starts.” 

They walk to the lockers and Nicole knows without a shadow of a doubt that, despite the school’s diminutive size, it was going to take at least until the end of the week to learn her way around. It should have been easy, but it was obvious the building was once much smaller and had gradually been extended over the years.

The layout makes absolutely no sense to her and she mentions this to Waverly.

“Yeah, I hear you,” the other girl says, wrinkling her nose. “And you’re right, I think the original building is probably like one or two hundred years old, and they’ve just renovated it and made it bigger however they could. At least you missed the construction trailers. They had them years ago, when I first started here, and it was hell in winter. I actually don’t think it was legal, but whatever. They still hadn’t finished repairing what’s now the English and Foreign Languages block after it basically collapsed during summer vacation and we had to study in these stupid little deconstructable cabins.” 

Waverly rolls her eyes as Nicole laughs. 

“You probably wouldn’t even have been allowed to do that at home.” 

“I know right?” Waverly agrees. “People sorta just do what they want out here half the time. There was this rumour a couple years back that they found asbestos in here.” At Nicole’s horrified look she adds, “they never proved it.” 

“Did they  _ dis _ prove it?!” Nicole asks incredulously.

“I mean... _ no _ ,” Waverly says with a giggle that is about as pretty as the rest of her. Nicole cannot help but laugh again. “But it’s probably fine, right?” 

“You know what? I’m just gonna pretend you never told me that. What’s the worst that can happen aside from premature death?” 

“ _ Only _ if they disturb it. I’ll take those odds,” Waverly jokes, before coming to an abrupt halt in front of a block of lockers. “Oh no  _ way _ ,” she exclaims, sounding genuinely put out.

“What?” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters before pointing to a locker right in the middle row. “This is yours. Meanwhile, I’m over here.” 

She steps to the other end of the block and points to one on the very top. She can still reach it, but Nicole would bet she probably can’t see right to the back. /

Nicole tries not to laugh, but an inelegant little snigger breaks out nonetheless.

“Hey, it’s  _ not  _ funny. I asked them to let me change it and they said ‘no’ and this whole time that one was free. And you’re a  _ giant _ .” 

“That’s actually kind of height-ist,” Nicole points out, opening the door to her locker with a smug look in Waverly’s direction. She has long-since gotten used to people commenting on how tall she is.

“Switch with me,” Waverly implores. “I’m literally begging you.” 

Nicole cocks her head to one side, pretending to think. “Hm. What’s in it for me?” 

Waverly rolls her eyes. “I don’t even know what I’d offer you. My undying gratitude?” 

“A great sentiment but not that useful to me,” Nicole jokes, affecting a businesslike tone. 

Waverly pouts. “ _ Please _ Nicole.” 

“Luckily for you, I have absolutely nothing to put in here right now, and I don’t even have a lock with me, so I guess you’ve got today to work it out,” she jokes, already knowing full well that she is going to switch with Waverly by the end of the day - no bribery needed. 

“Wow. Okay asshole,” Waverly says, still pretending to be annoyed, but she is grinning far too much for it to carry. 

Any further bickering is cut short by the bell sounding. 

“Shit,” Waverly says, and Nicole isn’t sure if she is surprised to hear the other girl cursing or not. She had assumed Gus and Curtis’ kid would be a Type A, prissy kind of person, but so far Waverly had proven her completely wrong. She cannot help but wonder if Waverly had preconceptions about her in return, and whether she had lived up to them or not. 

“We better get you to your first class,” Waverly goes on. “Can I see your timetable?” 

Nicole hands over the whole envelope and watches as Waverly’s eyebrows climb when she sees Nicole’s list of courses. It occurs to Nicole for the first time that no one had discussed this with her. She starts to worry that her classes won’t be compatible with the college courses she wants to apply for. 

“Wow. They haven’t gone easy on you at all,” Waverly says, sounding surprised. 

In spite of their easy banter, Nicole feels herself grow prickly. Does that mean Waverly is surprised they haven’t given her all bullshit classes? 

“What does that mean?” 

“Nothing,” Waverly says, looking slightly taken aback at the change in tone. “Just that they never normally go this hard on the kids we have stay with us. I guess it’s because it’s still the start of the year; they probably don’t think you’ve missed too much class to catch up with the assignments.”

Nicole bites her tongue against a further remark. She knows Waverly doesn’t mean anything by the conversation, and can see how it probably sticks out to her that Nicole is being treated so differently to the other kids the McCreadys take in. All the same, she has spent enough time knowing that others think her incapable just because of her past behaviour. She supposes this is a rod she has made for her own back, and has come to understand that people generally don't wait for her to prove herself before forming their own opinions. 

Plus, it didn’t help that her poor attendance as a junior had made her life now significantly harder. Back at home, she had been taking AP classes that, in theory, she could have started years ago, but she still had to make up for past misdemeanours by taking a fairly high volume of classes now. She only hopes that she is not about to have them taken away from her here, or she can kiss the idea of college and then the Academy goodbye for good.

“So you need to get Physics for your first class,” Waverly says quickly, evidently keen to move the conversation along. “Then you have AP Math so you’ll only be one corridor away. I’ll try and show you both rooms on my way to French.”

Nicole lets herself breath a small sigh of relief. She had been taking both those classes back at home. It could have been a whole lot worse.

She walks with Waverly in the direction of their first classes, and cannot help but notice how small the school seems now that all the students are moving about together. Naturally, the lines of people fill the space because the building itself is smaller, but it is nowhere near the stampede of movement Nicole is used to. 

She is not sure how this all makes her feel, because on the one hand it is vastly less frenetic than her school at home, but on the other she is far less likely to simply blend in and get lost as she has been doing for years. 

Then again, she supposes that this is kind of the whole point of her sentence here in Alberta. The judge had wanted this for her. The decision to move her to somewhere so small and remote (not to mention far afield) is still, on the whole, completely baffling to her, but some elements of it are starting to make sense. 

Waverly points out the correct room for second period Math, then leaves Nicole outside of the science block. She reiterates her offer to hang out during breaks, before hurrying off to her own class. 

Hoping she still looks braver than she feels, Nicole takes a breath and steps into her first class in this new school. She has never had to be the new kid before, and she does not relish the prospect now, especially joining school so late. She knows friendship groups will already have been established here, and in a place so small she can only assume that openings for new members will be in short supply. 

Her teacher - a young man with large, tortoiseshell glasses and a very smart suit - must have been prepared for her arrival, because he smiles at her and beckons her over as soon as she walks through the door. No one else pays her much notice, and for that she is pretty grateful. The teacher introduces himself and welcomes her to the class, before double-checking her curriculum so far this year. When what she has studied seems to line up with his own program, he nods and looks satisfied. 

“I’m pretty sure you won’t have too much trouble catching up,” he says confidently. “Your old school did send your grades through to me and it looks as though you were heading for an A, or at absolute worst case an A-. Hopefully the move won’t derail that, and of course we’ll do our best to help you settle in. What we’re covering shouldn’t be any more new to you than to anyone else in this room, but if at any point you feel lost just see me at the end of the class and I’ll try and direct you towards some reading material that will help. How does that sound?”

“Good, thanks,” Nicole says, surprised that he is so friendly with her. She wonders if any of the teachers here know where she is living and have made the connection about the reason she is a late starter here. She wonders too if any of them have actually been told that she was currently being punished for skipping classes in her own school. This guy certainly didn't know, or else he didn’t care. He looked pretty young, and Nicole had no real idea how long it had been since the McCreadys had taken in a kid. Maybe he didn’t know enough to have pre-judged her. 

He hands Nicole a textbook and lets her get herself settled in. The classroom is pretty much a standard high school lab set up, with rows of two-person benches to sit at and, presumably, conduct shared experiments. She casts her eyes about to see if there are any entirely free benches and spots one right at the back of the room. She hurries over to it, noting that the bench to the left houses only one occupant. She wonders if she would seem rude by not sitting with the boy who is currently on his own, or if it would be weird to join him. 

With only a few seconds to decide, she opts for a space of her own. She suspects that she will need to pair up with him for any experiments anyway, since with her in the class they now looked to be an even number. 

She sits down right as the teacher calls for silence, and slips a few pens and a battered up refill pad of paper out of her bag. She had not had much in the way of school supplies left when she packed up at home, and she was kind of hoping she’d be able to remedy that soon by starting on her mission to convince Gus and Curtis to let her work. Even her old calculator had smashed up a few weeks before she got her truancy notice, so she had been surreptitiously getting by with the one on her phone. 

The format of the class turns out to be pretty like her old school, and that makes her feel a lot better. The teacher started writing up a few formulas on the board, and Nicole sees right away that the class was dealing with force. She had missed a Physics class at home a few weeks ago which seemed to cover some revisionary material on the topic, and she is happy when this seems to be the crux of the class today. It felt a little like a do-over. 

They spend the first half of the class working through a set of practice problems which the teacher passes out. As he walks by Nicole he explains that they will spend time working through the problems, and will then test out their answers on a small experiment that he tailored to each lesson. 

Nicole works through the questions, eventually getting herself confused as she tries to solve for tangential velocity. She spots her own mistake and corrects it, however, and is pleased to find that the class is not all that much harder than she is used to. In fact, she seems to finish in good time, and sits about waiting for others to start on the experiment so she can gauge whether she should pair up with the boy to her left.

He too seems to be working through the questions pretty easily, and he does not look away from his paper at all as he scribbles his calculations down. He has mousey brown hair and a face that can only be described as kind, but there is something nervous in his posture and the expression he wears. He is keeping his head down in the literal sense here, but Nicole kind of gets the impression that he maybe does so in a more metaphorical way too. 

Eventually, a few people start getting up from the benches to collect a tray of pre-prepared equipment from a counter at the back of the room, and Nicole decides to follow their lead. Heading back over to the boy, she comes to a halt at the end of his bench right as he finishes the last problem on the page. She is happy to note that he too got it wrong the first time around. 

“Hey,” she says when he finally looks up, and she notes the way he only holds her gaze for a second or two before darting his eyes away and looking back again. He seemed as shy as Nicole had expected. “I think there’s only enough equipment for one between two. Do you mind if we share?” 

The kid shakes his head. “No that’s uh, that’s fine. Sit down if you like.” 

“Thanks. I’m Nicole, by the way.”

“Hey,” the kid says, “I’m Robin.” 

Robin has a soft voice and an easy smile, but there is no denying that he is clearly a bit uncomfortable meeting someone new. Still, he does his best to make conversation as they sift through the equipment and tools they have been given.

“Did you just move here?” At Nicole’s responding nod, he asks, “where from?” 

“From Ottawa,” Nicole explains. “I’m uh, I’m actually living with Waverly M- no, wait. It’s not McCready is it? It’s Earp, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Robin tells her. “Gus and Curtis are McCready, she and Wynonna are Earp.” 

“You know the family then?” Nicole asks, casting a cautious glance over at her new lab partner. If he was that well acquainted with her host family, he probably knew enough to realise why Nicole was here. She wondered what misconceptions  _ he _ would hold about her intellectual capacity. 

“Well I’m from around Purgatory, so it’s impossible not to know everyone. The McCreadys are sweet though, and so is Waverly. Waverly’s like the nicest kid in this school. I think you’ll get on well with the whole family. The kids they have stay with them normally do, at least by the end.” 

Sensing an opportunity for recon, Nicole asks, “do you usually see much of the other kids they take in?”

At first, Robin merely blinks at her and seemingly takes a moment or two to register that she is actually making conversation with him. Then, after the pause drags out a little longer, he starts to relax a little. 

“Honestly? No, not really. I’ve not had a class with them in years. If I remember, the McCreadys didn’t have anyone stay last year, but they’ve had lots of kids in the past. Not all at once, obviously. They usually put them in classes I’m not in.” 

“Classes like what?” Nicole asks, trying her best not to sound too desperate for information.

“Um like Home Ec., Wood Tech, that sort of thing. All the hands-on sort of stuff that I suck at,” Robin says, seemingly to genuinely not realise that the kids Curtis looked after were probably stereotyped and lumped into the vocational courses from day one. Obviously, there is nothing wrong with that, and nothing inherently superior in the academic route, but Nicole is mostly just quietly frustrated at the school’s  _ assumption _ that kids with backgrounds like hers shouldn't even be given the choice. She is still surprised they have put her in at least two of the same classes as she had back at home, but she didn’t want to count her chickens too soon as she had not had a chance to look at the rest of her schedule yet. 

“And how do the kids normally get on?”

“I mean, they’re usually dragged up in front of the school principal every day for the first week or two, but they generally have some kind of past issue or trauma that they’re here to work through, so it’s not surprising they struggle at first. New environment and all that,” Robin says, and his total lack of judgement warms Nicole more to him even more than the soft, kind aura he possessed. “But by the end, nine times out of ten that stuff all dies down or stops altogether. Like I say, that family is made up of a lot of good people, and they really do care.” 

“I think I’m starting to see that,” Nicole admits and Robin smiles. 

“Shall we get on with our work maybe?” 

Nicole grins. “Probably a good idea, yeah.” 

They work through a series of experiments designed to give them a set of results about centripetal force and tangential velocity, and manage to get all the results they were expecting on their first tries. 

As a result, they pack away before anyone else, and go back to making small talk. 

“How are you liking Purgatory so far?” Robin asks. 

“It’s...different,” Nicole says diplomatically, and Robin chuckles to himself.

“Don’t worry, I’m not super defensive of where I’m from; you can be rude about it if you like. I'm planning on getting out too eventually.” 

Nicole shakes her head with a smile. Robin seems nice. “No no, I’m not trying to be rude. It’s literally just so different. Plus I’ve not even been into town properly yet. Curtis just drove me through it on my first evening and it was dead. Like obviously it’s in a really beautiful area, but I’m trying to adjust from being in the city.”

“That makes sense,” Robin says reasonably. “When did you arrive here?” 

“Saturday.”

Robin looks surprised. “Wow, so they’re literally kicking you off the diving board and into the deep end, huh?” 

“I hadn’t actually realised it, but that’s certainly what everyone else seems to think.” 

“Well I’m pretty sure they do a longer adjustment period for some of the kids, but they tend to have really bad behavioural issues. They obviously think you’re a lot more stable already, and I don’t mean that in some kind of rude way, the word ‘stable’. Just like, literally.”

Nicole shrugs. “I didn’t want to come out here as it was. I was fine back at home.” 

“Pretty much all of the kids that end up with the McCreadys say the same. The thing is, even setting aside the questionable part where kids are getting moved across the country, most of them end up being okay about the time they spend on Curtis and Gus’ program. It changes them, just because they've got people to share the load with. In a way, I'm a bit jealous. No idea if that helps in any way though.” 

“Yeah, I guess it does a bit,” Nicole says, though she mostly does so to be diplomatic. She actually is not so sure it  _ does _ help, because she doesn’t want this time to change her or make her somehow more compliant with things she doesn’t agree with. It wasn’t like she’d ever disputed the need to go to her classes, or that she had intentionally skipped school in years. In truth, the whole thing felt like overkill, and even if she knew that there was no one on earth who couldn’t stand to make some improvements, she hadn’t felt the express need to change as a person on any overarching level. But, reading between the lines of the fliers she’d been given, as well as what the judge said, this programme was designed to change and reform the kids that were enrolled onto it. Nicole is still not sure she wants that for herself, not in any extreme sense at least. 

Almost as if it wants to spare her from having to unpack this thought process any further, the bell rings, signalling the end of first period and the start of second. 

They finish packing up the experiments and their own possessions, and Nicole stands up with a smile.

“Thanks for letting me work with you today.” 

Robin grins. “Well, thanks for wanting to.”

It is obvious to both of them that Nicole didn’t really have a choice - everyone else was already paired off - but she thinks that if she  _ had _ been given a choice, she would have chosen someone as nice as Robin. 

All the same, it is a strange comment on his part, and she wonders whether he is often left to sit alone in class. She vows that if she sees him in any other classes, she will make an effort to sit with him again. 

She is kind of in the market for friends, after all. 

They leave together, dropping their problem sheets and experiment results off with the teacher and collecting their homework. 

“What do you have next?” Robin asks, and Nicole is hopeful he might have the same class her again. At her answer, however, he pulls a face. “AP Math? Nope, just regular old Math for me. I do have AP Biology after lunch though, if that’s your thing.”

Nicole, however, had been restricting herself to one traditional science in her senior year, simply because she was not  _ that _ keen on the subjects. Unless they have suddenly really thrown her under the bus, she doubts she’ll have Biology at all. 

“No worries,” she says, trying not to sound too disappointed. She doubts lightning will strike in the same place twice and that she’ll meet another equally friendly face in the rest of her classes. “I’ll catch you around, or if not see you tomorrow in Physics again.” 

Robin smiles. “Sounds good to me,” he says, hurrying off to make his next class which is, apparently, music - not at all what Nicole had expected. 

“I gotta enjoy at least  _ one _ of my classes, right?” he calls sarcastically as he heads away.

Nicole smiles to herself, before growing serious again. For her, one of those enjoyable classes had been Math, but that had been mostly because Mrs Peterson had liked her, and Nicole had liked the other woman back. Nicole was good at Math, but her passion for it had mostly hinged around having a good teacher. 

She couldn’t really picture herself feeling the same in Alberta, and her suspicions are confirmed when she heads into her next classroom and is subjected to a painfully dull lesson conducted by a man who  _ had _ to be a hundred years old - or at least in his late sixties - and clearly would not be inspiring Nicole as much as Mrs Peterson had. He was tall and impossibly thin, with a wrinkled face that was slightly reminiscent of a mournful old bloodhound, and a reedy voice that could send anyone into an instant stupor. 

Given that this is an AP class, Nicole thinks she can probably kiss part of her GPA goodbye from now on. She can feel her concentration drifting after about five minutes, and realises quickly that the only reason she had excelled at Math in the first place had been because she had been engaged and the subject had come fairly naturally to her. Thankfully, she actually  _ enjoyed _ the content of other classes, but she had no idea if they were still on the cards for her, or if her new teachers would be as woefully uninspiring as this guy. 

Surreptitiously, she slips her schedule back out of its envelope and glances down the list. Immediately, she is relieved beyond words. All her classes are the same, except they’ve given her AP Psychology instead of just Psychology. This is new and, she thinks, probably an admin error. She has the class before lunch, so can go and check with the office during recess.

However, the break seems to take forever to come, and the students spend the class mostly taking notes of the complex algebraic equations their teacher writes up on the board and then deconstructs for them. 

Nicole is happy that note-taking serves as a means to keep her awake, because they are certainly not asked to engage in the class in any way. In fact, it looks like they will only be practising the equations as homework and, right on the bell, the teacher lists an unreasonable amount of work to be done before tomorrow. This, Nicole supposes glumly, and not the dynamism of the lessons, is what qualifies the class as AP. 

He only remembers to actually give Nicole a textbook in which to  _ find _ the homework problems when she reminds him as the rest of the students file out, and he does not offer her any help in the way her Physics teacher had done. 

She calls past her locker on her way to the office, fishing one of Dolls’ granola bars from her bag as she walks. He had taken to plying her with them whenever he saw her in the week between the court hearing and her departure. This one had survived the flight across the country, but just barely. It is squashed nearly flat but still just as edible in theory. She hadn’t touched much of her breakfast again this morning, but feels a tiny bit peckish after concentrating for two hours solid. 

As she throws her textbooks into her new locker, she bumps into Waverly and her friend Chrissy. It is the first time Nicole has really had a chance to talk with the best friend, as preoccupied as she had been with the two rude girls in Waverly’s house yesterday. Chrissy seems pleasant enough from the way she tries to give Nicole a shy smile, and she is pretty too, although nowhere near as pretty as Waverly in Nicole’s opinion.

“Nicole, hey!” Waverly says, sounding bright and cheery enough. All the same, she eyes Nicole carefully when she asks, “how were your first two classes?”

“They were alright,” Nicole says, answering honestly. Neither class was amazing on the basis that she didn’t actually  _ like _ Physics, and her new Math teacher was apparently capable of draining away what little pleasure she had previously derived from that subject. “The Math teacher had us practically catatonic though, so I can't see my AP status lasting long.” 

Both Waverly and Chrissy giggle. 

“Was it Collins?” Waverly asks, “because yeah, he’s literally the worst.” 

“I dunno, he never even introduced himself to me. But he was about two centuries old.” 

This earns another bout of laughter. 

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely him,” Chrissy says. 

“I’m sure you’ll still be fine in the class though,” Waverly says kindly, “just don’t fall asleep too many times.” 

“Well I need to switch out of one AP class,” Nicole tells her carelessly, “so they’ll probably take me out of the other if I’m bad enough at it. I only got through it at my old school because the Math teacher was nice.”

Waverly furrows her brow. “Which class are you switching?” 

“Psych.”

“They put you in AP Psych?” Chrissy asks, but she does not sound surprised in the way everyone else has done so far.

“Yes,” Nicole answers cautiously.

“The slot next period?” 

“Mmhm,” Nicole says, pressing her lips together.

“Oh, please don’t switch,” Chrissy implores quickly. “I don’t know  _ anyone _ in that class, they’re all from other towns.” 

“They’ve made a mistake. I wasn’t in the AP class at my old school,” Nicole explains, pulling an apologetic expression. “I probably won’t be able to do the class here.” 

Chrissy pulls a face. “Well, if you change your mind, come say hi after recess.” 

“Sure,” Nicole says with a shrug, excusing herself to go to the office. 

When she explains her problem, however, she is met only with a blank look from the same lady who handed her the timetable in the first place. 

“We based the schedule on what was sent through to us,” she says, tone suggesting she is not open to comments or queries. All the same, Nicole persists. 

“But that’s my point; I wasn’t taking AP Psychology at my old school.”

The lady scrolls through something on her computer screen and presumably calls up Nicole’s details. 

“Current placement in regular Psychology class,” she reads from the monitor in a dull, disinterested monotone. “Recommended that student continues these studies. Equivalent class in new school accepted, but based on current grades would also be suitable for AP class.”

At this, Nicole fights to keep her disbelief from her face. Her Psychology teacher back at home had always hated her, and seemed harder on her than any other student in the class. Nicole had always assumed she didn’t trust her after her past attendance issues, even though she breezed through Psychology and truly enjoyed it. 

Upon reflection, she supposes she could handle a tougher class. Perhaps she’d feel more engaged if she was a bit more challenged. She had always hated anything that was too easy. She was competitive, largely with herself, and she liked to push her own standards higher. 

“So what do I do? I haven’t taken the course and we’re nearly a month into the semester.” 

“Go to the class, speak to your teacher. She should know that you’re new to the AP course.”

Grumbling under her breath at the clerk's evident disinterest, Nicole complies. In the end, her Psych class goes pretty much the same as Physics. The teacher turns out to be nice, and she takes Nicole to one side to explain that she had been happy to take her old school’s recommendation and put her in the more difficult class. 

“Have you had a chance to meet anyone yet?” she asks. “I’m sure it’s early days.”

“Just Chrissy, but only in passing,” Nicole answers, unsure if the other girl will want to be tied to an association with her. 

“Well, perhaps if you need to catch up we might ask her to help out?” the teacher suggests. Nicole gives a vague, non-committal answer about reaching out if she needs help, but has on intentions of imposing herself on anyone. 

As it happens, she follows the content of the class well enough anyway, and the same goes for Political Science. 

By lunchtime, however, a new problem arises. Her final period is Physical Education, and because she didn’t know in advance, she doesn’t have any sports clothes with her. She figures she can probably get away with her current jeans, tee, and sneakers get-up, but knows she is going to look monumentally stupid. 

She tries to consider her options as she goes through the motions to collect lunch and heads towards the seating area. She looks around in the hopes of spotting Waverly or even Chrissy - just anyone she knows - but neither of them seems to be around. Instead, she sees Robin sitting at a table in one corner of the room by himself, and decides he probably won’t mind if she invites herself over for the second time in one day. 

“Hey,” she says as she approaches, not missing the surprised and slightly apprehensive way that Robin looks up when a shadow crosses his table. He shoots his gaze up from his phone, set on the table beside his food, and then visibly relaxes again when he sees Nicole. 

“Mind if I gatecrash again?” she asks. “Promise I won’t make you stop scrolling Twitter, I’d just rather not sit with strangers” she adds as a joke.

Robin sends her a lopsided grin. “My timeline’s dead anyway. You’re totally fine. And probably wise not risking the stranger danger. It’s a bit fraught here.” 

“How so?” Nicole asks, sitting down heavily in the chair diagonally across from Robin. She picks unenthusiastically at her food, eventually selecting an apple. It gives a satisfying crunch when she bites into it. 

“It’s like, pretty much a tale of two extremes sometimes,” he explains. “People tend to either be really nice or really terrible, and it’s not always obvious which they are at first.” 

Nicole swallows her apple and grimaces. “Welcome to high school, huh?” 

“Something like that,” Robin says, but the sentiment lacks the light tone and humour that Nicole has started to see as his natural demeanour. She wonders what has happened to him here, what makes him so nervous and so seemingly grateful that Nicole is actually nice to him. She wonders who gives him hell, and why. 

Of course, she has no intention of asking any such invasive questions. It is not her place, just as Robin does not seem to see it as his place to ask Nicole about why she is the new McCready kid.

Instead, they swap meaningless small talk for just under an hour, mostly centred around which TV shows they watch, which video games they like, and which  _ Harry Potter _ book was the superior one. Nicole is a staunch supporter of the  _ Prisoner of Azkaban _ taking that title, and Robin does not effectively sway her with his impassioned defence of  _ Order of the Phoenix _ . 

All the same they reach a good-natured truce, with both of them conceding that the other’s choice is their personal second favourite. 

Ten minutes before the bell is about to ring, Nicole changes the subject. 

“Do you know if the school has like, spare gym kits or a lost property bucket or anything? I didn’t know I was gonna have Phys Ed today.”

It is not that she  _ wants _ to wear someone else’s gross, sweaty sports clothes, but she also doesn’t want to make a bad impression by turning up in her jeans, and she wants to be allowed to participate today. It might not have been long, but she was already missing proper physical activity. She hadn’t yet asked Gus or Curtis if she’d be allowed to take a morning run, but now she knows she has been enrolled in the sports class, she has an excuse. She likes the idea of spending an hour in the morning outdoors on her own; she is already missing having time to herself. 

Robin clicks his tongue. “Bummer. But yeah, let me show you the gym offices. They’ll probably have some spare track pants or something.” 

Naturally, all the spare clothes that can be offered only reach above Nicole’s ankles, but beggars cannot be choosers. At least she is not wearing her jeans when she lines up for class, and at least the clothes are completely clean. She can smell the detergent on them. 

As the bell rings the class - Nicole notes it is mostly made up of  _ precisely _ the kind of boys she is used to seeing playing sports - marches across the road and onto the fields Nicole had seen that morning. They are told to do a ten minute warm up run, and are stretching when one of the coaches starts opening a kit bag to reveal equipment for a baseball game. 

Nicole will learn that the format of the class is a mix of games and athletic sessions with more theory based desk learning. Today, it is a baseball game. 

The coach instructs them to split evenly into two teams, and Nicole knows enough to anticipate that she will be picked last. She is the new kid; it is natural. More than that, she is a girl and she can already see that most of the boys (who wildly outnumber any other girls) are typical teenage jocks. She hates to have preconceptions about them, but she knows when she is right.

“Hardy, you take one team, Crofte you take the other.” 

It takes Nicole a moment to place the name Hardy, until she connects it back to the kid who had apparently been interested in Waverly. She eyes him up as surreptitiously as possible. She supposes he has a generically nice face, and he is obviously pretty muscled from all the sports he plays, but other than that she is certainly the wrong person to assess his attractiveness. 

Hardy picks all his buddies first, while the other captain - a tall, dark-haired guy - seems to make more strategic choices. Eventually, she ends up on his team. 

“Sorry,” he says when Nicole steps up, “I didn’t even realise we had someone new in class.” He eyes her for a second, evidently trying to place her. “New to the area right? Not just to Phys Ed.”

“Yeah, I’ve just moved to Purgatory,” Nicole says, aware that most of the other kids are listening, and instinctually less willing to be open with these guys than with Robin. Instead, she lets the boy introduce himself as Perry, and is appreciative when he asks her what position she plays. 

“I don’t really mind,” she says, trying to be a good team player. Ideally, she kind of likes first or shortstop, but she isn’t about to volunteer herself for that on her first day. “In field or out, I’m fine with either.” 

“We’ll put you on left field today if that’s alright?” he says, and Nicole nods, surprised that he hadn’t given her an even easier position out on right. Then, however, he tips her a grin which even she would describe as charming. “They’ve got some pretty big hitters, so I hope you can catch.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


As it turns out (and as Nicole knew all too well), she can catch. She can catch damn well. She gets two out of her own accord in the first inning alone, and manages to score as many runs when it is her team’s turn to bat. She gets pretty popular with her team pretty fast, but doesn’t win any friends from the opposing side. 

Apparently they don’t love it when a girl hits and throws and runs better than them. But Nicole has always been pretty okay with playing sports  _ like a girl _ . It has served her well enough over the years. 

Then, in the final inning, when Nicole is running between second and third, and well on her way to a home run, the Hardy dude trips her in an obvious obstruction and she manages to skid over the hard turf. 

She feels the cut on her leg from soccer - so bad that it has just barely closed up and scabbed over - smart badly, and knows it is about to start bleeding again. She curses, pissed because she had only just managed to get it to start healing, and Hardy earns himself a telling off for his efforts. 

When she picks herself up and dusts herself off, she has already managed to bleed through her borrowed pants, much to the horror of the coach and some of her team members, although she suspects her own frustration is the most prevalent emotion of all.

She is sent back early to visit the school nurse, but opts instead to simply change and wait to meet Waverly at the end of the final period. Going to the nurse will only generate lectures and questions about not getting the cut stitched up in the first place. She looked after it fine before now. 

It hurts like hell, which is super fantastic given that it had just recently  _ stopped _ twinging at random intervals, but she manages to stem most of the bleeding and get her jeans back on, hiding a limp as best she can. 

She empties her locker of the four textbooks it currently contains right on the final bell, and waits for Waverly to appear and instruct her on how they actually leave school. She assumes they will be picked up, but doesn’t actually know for sure.

Eventually, as the corridors fill up (which still seems like a very relative term to Nicole), she sees Waverly round the corner. This time, she is flanked by all of the girls from yesterday plus one other, and Nicole feels herself tense up. 

There is no mistaking the dirty look Stephanie throws her, and Nicole can only hope the one she returns is equal in its intense show of dislike. 

Nicole is greeted as she would expect - by Chrissy and Waverly only - and she again returns the sentiment. 

The other girls wait for Chrissy and Waverly to collect their things and Nicole watches as Waverly falls foul of her somewhat elevated locker. In fairness to her, the blocks are pretty tall, and to a degree even Nicole has trouble seeing right to the back. 

She bites back a soft, amused smile as Waverly struggles to reach for something, and is caught red-handed when the other girl finally concedes defeat and turns to ask Nicole for help.

“ _ Don’t _ laugh at me,” she chides, but there is no real malice in her voice. She bites back a smile of her own. “It’s embarrassing.”

Nicole laughs. “Right,  _ so _ embarrassing. How  _ dare _ you not have grown more than nature intended?” 

Lacking a decent comeback, Waverly shoves at her as she passes by to retrieve whatever lost item has proved to be Waverly's downfall. 

It sets Nicole off-balance and hurts her leg, but she manages to hide it well.

“You must get this a lot, right?” Waverly asks.

Nicole snorts. “ _ Literally _ all the time, yeah.” 

“Well, it’s good to have one use, I guess. I’d hate being so abnormally tall.” This comment is thrown in from Stephanie and, from anyone else, it could easily have been a well timed sarcastic joke. From Stephanie, it just sounds like a mean low blow, which is presumably exactly how it was intended. 

Nicole tries not to laugh to herself. The kid is going to have to do more than that to bother her. She has always been the skinny, red-haired girl who, by the age of twelve, was taller than every boy in her grade. She has heard it all, and never really found time for too many insecurities about the way she looks. She has grown into the red hair over the years and, on some quiet, modest level, she knows it. Her height has always helped her with sports, and since they have always been one of her main focuses, she cannot really bring herself to dislike it too much. 

All the same, Nicole can see how growing up with kids like Stephanie and hearing the little slights and comments every day could bother someone. So far, none of her comments had been a direct slap in the face, but Nicole assumes that this is not the worst the other girl could do. 

Quite literally pretending that Stephanie hadn’t spoken, Nicole reaches up into Waverly’s locker and starts collecting stuff at random.

“So, I don’t need all of it just the…” Waverly begins, but Nicole just shakes her head.

“I’m putting you out of your misery,” she announces, collecting Waverly’s stuff and indicating that she should put it in the locker Nicole had been assigned.

Waverly’s celebrates with a little cry of triumph, and quickly they work together to get her things installed in their new home. Lastly, she packs the evening’s homework into her bag, and they leave as a group. 

Nicole wonders if they will all be getting a ride together, but is relieved when, once outside, everyone makes as if to part ways. 

The blue and silver truck is waiting in a parking space, but it is not Gus sat behind the wheel this time. 

Instead Wynonna is slouched in the seat, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and very obviously bobbing her head to whatever music she is playing. 

"They let your sister out of the house every so often then?" Steph says with a sneer. 

Wearing the expression of someone who is both hurt and yet still somewhat unsurprised by the comment, Waverly shakes her head in response. 

“You know it’s not like that,” she says quietly, and somehow it is obvious that Waverly has worded this response cryptically in front of Nicole. 

Instantly, Nicole’s curiosity is piqued. She knows of course that Wynonna has had her own troubled past, but she wasn’t aware that it was something that might also have been fairly common knowledge outside of the people who occupied the McCready home. 

It certainly does not seem like the conversation anyone as seemingly sensible as Waverly would have had with an obvious bully like Stephanie, so she must have found out some other way.

Right on cue with Nicole’s internal thought process, Stephanie mutters something that sounds remarkably like the words ‘lunatic’ and ‘asylum’. However, she does not press any further buttons, and no one challenges her on what she is saying. 

Nicole narrows her eyes and a moment later, by sheer chance, Stephanie sees her. The other girl mirrors her expression, and although Nicole knows that she cannot afford for anyone to cause trouble while she is here, she has never had much time for bullies. 

Unbothered by Stephanie, Nicole instead casts a sideways glance at Waverly who is walking with her arms wrapped over an A4 notebook that is pressed to her chest. She has her chin propped on the top edge and her eyes fixed firmly on the tarmac beneath her feet. 

Nicole feels an immediate pang of sympathy for the other girl. 

Life with these other kids around - Chrissy excepted - must kind of suck. 

The girls all part ways which very little else said between them. The awkwardness after Waverly’s response about her sister is palpable. At the last moment, Nicole notices that Chrissy had been watching Waverly with the same concern Nicole possessed. Their eyes meet and Nicole throws a pointed look at Stephanie’s back before wrinkling her brow as if to say  _ ‘what the hell?!’ _

Chrissy just shakes her head slightly to mean  _ don’t even bother _ , before worrying at her lip nervously. 

A moment later, Nicole and Waverly are back in the truck, and Wynonna is pulling away before they even really have time to strap in. 

“So, stepkid,” Wynonna says grandly, meeting Nicole’s eye in the drivers’ mirror. “How was your first day in the hellhole?” 

Waverly gives a little gasp and chides Wynonna gently at the choice of nickname. Nicole just shakes her head and grins, she has heard it a million times by now and it doesn’t bother her in the slightest, least of all when it is so obvious that Wynonna is joking. 

“Hellhole-y?” Nicole tries before amending with, “but no, in seriousness? It was alright. I’m just continuing with all my old classes anyway, and I managed to find two that have nice people in. So I’ll survive.”

“You’re taking  _ all _ your old classes?” Waverly checks. Again, she sounds surprised. 

“Yes, although it seems shocking to everyone,” Nicole says, watching Waverly carefully. Nicole is starting to realise that the other girl has an honest face, although she does not seem to be especially aware of it. 

“What’s  _ actually _ shocking is that you found two whole nice people,” Wynonna interjects. “Isn’t there literally zero?” 

“Hey! I’m there.” 

“Literally. Zero,” Wynonna repeats with additional emphasis, once again catching Nicole’s eye in the mirror and sending her a playful look which suggests just how much she loves messing with her kid sister. Nicole bites back a smile. 

“And Chrissy,” Waverly persists with a pout. “That’s at least two. No wonder you failed Math.” 

It does not escape Nicole’s notice that Waverly does not include her other friends in her very small head count. 

“I totally passed it later on,” Wynonna says mildly. “And I’ll give you Chrissy. That’s one nice person.”

Waverly makes a show of tutting and rolling her eyes exaggeratedly, but says nothing more. In the comfortable silence that follows, Nicole explains,

“Chrissy’s actually in my Psych class. She’s one of the two I was talking about.

“Who’s the other?” Waverly asks and Nicole knows she is trying to sound casual, but that honest face gives her away immediately. She is curious.

“This kid in my Physics class - he’s called Robin. He let me sit with him at lunch too. He takes the nice person quota to at least four, present company included,” Nicole says, gesturing at herself and Waverly. It wins her a huge smile from Waverly and a completely unexpected response from her sister.

In a total kneejerk reaction, and in a not unkind way, Wynonna lets out a puff of air. 

“ _ Oof _ . That’ll put a target on your back.” 

“ _ Wynonna _ .” This time, Waverly tells her sister off a little more seriously.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. From what I hear he’s a nice kid,” Wynonna protests before directing her next comment at Nicole directly. “He needs someone being nice to him.” 

“I literally have no idea what you guys are going on about,” Nicole says, not exactly trying to fish for information but a little curious about the meaningless high school politics nonetheless.

“Some of the other kids in the grade are pretty mean to him,” Waverly says with a sad look on her face. “There was a point last year where it got really bad, actually. It was awful.”

The statement does not especially surprise Nicole (Robin had the look of a kid who had learned to watch his back) but it hangs between them all ominously all the same. Then, hastily and with a panicked look on her face, Waverly adds,

“I don’t do that to him obviously.”

“I think that probably went without saying Waves,” Wynonna points out sarcastically. In a kinder tone she adds, “I hope you’ll keep being cool to him stepkid, all I was saying was people here target by association too.”

“It won’t change anything,” Nicole says easily, believing her own words. “Besides, I probably need him more than he needs me. He has pretty good taste in video games.” Here, she pauses for deliberate effect and as much sarcastic impact as possible. “And something tells me you two probably don’t.”

Turning her attention to Waverly, Wynonna grins.

“Oh yeah, I like this one.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


They arrive home and it does not surprise Nicole at all that the McCreadys are the type of family who leave out cookies and steaming mugs of tea for the girls as they arrive home. Gus and Curtis, however, are nowhere to be found.

“They’ll be outdoors working,” Waverly explains when they stop to kick their shoes off at the front door. 

“And then they go to the bar to work there?” Nicole asks, surprised that Gus and Curtis have so many different jobs. 

“Not always - that’s more just my aunt,” Waverly replies. “If Wynonna’s at work too we may have to go into town after school instead of here. They’re mostly doing all this stuff because they love it, but I know what you’re thinking - it is a lot. We’ve all always just been busy. My family are friends with the guy who owns the bar, and he never likes to ask for help, so Gus just steps in when she can.” 

“It must be tiring for them,” Nicole remarks as she goes to take off her sneakers. Once again, she doesn’t bother trying to unlace them but regrets her decision a moment later when she uses her bad leg to step on the heel of her opposite shoe.

She gasps and swears under her breath, and it makes Waverly jump.

“Shit, what?” she cries in shock, steadying herself against the front door as she hops about trying to take one of her boots off. 

“No, it’s nothing, never mind,” Nicole says, knowing she is not in the least bit convincing when she is still tensed up from the pain. 

“That’s definitely not nothing,” Waverly says, her expression growing gentle. She looks at Nicole very carefully. “You can tell me if something’s the matter.”

“I hurt my leg in Phys Ed today but it’s no big deal, honest.” 

“Nicole, you’re white as a sheet. I can tell it’s a big deal.” 

Not wanting a fuss, Nicole protests for a little longer, before realising that Waverly is just as headstrong and stubborn (or perhaps more so) as she is. 

“I’m not gonna shut up until you show me how hurt you are,” Waverly says, crossing her arms imperiously and looking wonderfully absurd as she stands and tries to look strict whilst wearing only one shoe. 

“I’d give in dude,” Wynonna shouts from the living room. “Like a dog with a bone once she gets going.”

“Well so am I,” Nicole calls back playfully. 

“That much I’m discovering.” 

Nicole turns back to Waverly, knowing she will have to relent. 

“I can’t show you under my jeans so we’ll have to go up and get my shorts.” 

A part of Nicole is happy to just be able to get the tight denim off the wound. I feels gross and is probably monumentally ruining the healing process. 

She makes an excuse to change in the bathroom, secretly wanting to assess the damage herself before Waverly sees it. She had wilfully told herself that it probably looked worse than it was but she is not convinced this is actually the case. 

Peeling her jeans off her legs hurts, and stepping into a pair of athletic shorts is a bit of a balancing act, but she manages to change. The long cut on her leg had just scabbed over well, and all that good work and healing had been undone. However, amidst the mess of dried blood flaking on her leg, Nicole can see that the wound has knitted together on the inside and stayed pretty healed. It is still deep, and could still probably benefit from stitches, but it is a vast improvement on a week ago. 

Waverly is going to freak out, but not as badly as she would have done had the cut completely re-opened. 

As a latch ditch attempt to patch things up, she gets some toilet tissue and wets it at the sink before using it to mop up two little trails of blood that had run down her leg a little. She flushes it so that it does not dry in the trash, and steels herself for what will inevitably involve a lot of fuss over nothing. 

“I’m telling you, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Nicole says, stepping into the room and watching Waverly’s mouth drop open.

“Well thank God it’s not as bad as it looks because it looks awful,” Waverly exclaims sarcastically. “Oh wait, that’s because  _ it is awful _ . How the hell did we not know about this?” 

Nicole shrugs. “No one knows, it’s fine.” 

“I’d really hate to see what ‘not fine’ looks like to you.”

“I mean, if I’d taken my whole foot off that might be hitting the scale of ‘bad’,” Nicole jokes. 

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Much as your tough guy act probably impresses all the boys, we seriously need to get my aunt to look at this. I think you might need a doctor.”

“Hey! Telling anyone else was  _ not _ on the cards.”

“Not when I thought you were gonna be bruised to hell. This is like  _ Saw _ -level shit.” 

Nicole opens her mouth to argue, before realising that Waverly is going to fetch help no matter what Nicole’s next words will be. She sighs for dramatic effect.

“Okay,  _ fine _ . Let’s go let your aunt tell me off for not getting this checked out.”

As it happens, however, no one seems too ready to launch into any lectures, and although Gus has a lot of questions, she manages to make them seem brisk and businesslike. At the same time that she checks out the injury, Curtis stands across the room, leaning in the spot where two kitchen cabinets meet at a right angle. He crosses his arms across his chest and watches closely as the scene unfolds.

After her initial shock, Gus asks Nicole if she has any allergies and whether her parents have any medical insurance. Nicole is able to answer ‘no’ to the former and ‘yes’ to the latter.

“But I don’t want to go to see a doctor,” she adds hastily. “I don’t need to.” 

Gus peers closely at the wound. “I’m not too sure I can agree with that Nicole. Waverly says you did this during class today. It seems like a bad cut for a high school sports class.” 

It takes Nicole a slow few seconds to realise that, of course, no one else knows her soccer story. 

“I didn’t originally hurt it today, I just opened it back up when I fell.” 

Gus blinks, looking surprised and rather troubled. “Then how did you do this?” 

“During a soccer match back at home. Sliding tackle on me went wrong, and someone’s studs ended up in my leg.” 

She hears Waverly make a sharp inhalation in an expression of sympathy. 

“Did you get it checked out then?”

“I couldn’t,” Nicole says. “I had to go to work after the match. Plus, like I say, I didn’t need to.”

Gus opens her mouth to question further, but the penny drops before she can speak. Nicole couldn’t eat without her folks unless she worked and she couldn’t have turned up at hospital alone. Looking frustrated (but not, Nicole senses, at her) Gus presses her lips together for a moment.

“And when was this?” 

“About ten days ago.” 

At this, Waverly cannot stop her reaction.

“Ten  _ days _ ?” she exclaims in disbelief. “How did you even leave it so long?” 

Nicole shrugs. “It was healing. It’s fine. Or, it was.” 

“Why didn’t you make us aware of this when you came here Nicole?” Gus asks, sounding truly serious for the first time. “This is a bad injury. We should have known.” 

“I didn’t want to bother anyone,” Nicole says, thinking that she is not actually  _ obliged _ to tell Gus or Curtis anything. They’re not her family. “And honestly? I didn’t even think to mention it.”

For the first time, Curtis speaks.

“It isn’t any trouble to help you Nicole, it’s what we want to do. But if it were, why did you think you weren’t worth that effort?” 

“Okay,” Nicole responds. “I never said anything about what I think I’m worth. It’s not about any Psychology stuff. It’s just a cut on my leg.” 

“I don’t think it is,” Curtis says gently, “and I don’t think any of the times you’ve disregarded very natural self care should be disregarded. But perhaps we should revisit that at a later time.” He turns to Gus. “Do you think we need to get her to the hospital?” 

Gus looks at the wound again. “I think she should have had stitches ten days ago. I don’t think they’ll give them to her now. Let’s make sure we clean it up and bandage it, then we’ll keep an eye on it for the next day or two.” 

Gus follows through with the plan, before plying unnecessary painkillers onto Nicole. 

She makes Nicole and Waverly fresh tea, before letting the girls take their drinks and cookies upstairs to consume while they do their homework. 

Before they make it all the way out the kitchen, however, Curtis stops them by asking Nicole,

“Did you play a lot of soccer at home?” 

Nicole nods, feeling herself grin. “Yeah. I trained like three nights a week and played matches every weekend during the season. I already miss it, it was the best.” 

Curtis nods. “I can see that. Perhaps we’ll have to look into finding a way you can still play while you’re here. Behaviour dependent, of course. Would you like that?” 

Nicole knows she would comply with pretty much anything if it meant keeping soccer up. She doesn’t want to get rusty. 

“Honestly, that would be amazing. Yes, please.” 

Curtis smiles. 

“Okay then, let’s see what we can do.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The rest of the day passes by uneventfully. Nicole and Waverly work through their homework together and they eat dinner with the rest of the family. 

After dinner, they shower and switch into their pyjamas. Waverly asks if Nicole wants to watch a movie on the small TV monitor in her bedroom and, simply because it is an unexpected gesture and catches Nicole by surprise, she accepts. 

They pick something simple that they have seen already and both of them scroll through their phones as the movie plays. When it finishes Waverly switches the light out. When they have been in darkness for only a few moments, she says,

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” Nicole says, thinking that she would rather give the opposite answer but unsure how to do so without causing offence. She knows what is coming, and doesn’t really want to have the discussion. All the same, she is sleeping in Waverly’s room as a near stranger. The other girl deserves to ask the question. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Because a judge told me I had no choice,” Nicole says immediately, careful to pitch her voice so Waverly does not think she is trying to be mean. It is just the easiest answer, and she wishes Waverly would accept it and leave things as they are.

“You know what I mean,” Waverly counters, and it is obvious she doing her utmost to keep her own tone just as gentle. 

“Honestly? I do, but also not really,” Nicole tells her. “Like, I get what you’re asking me but not really why you’re asking it.” 

“Because you’re not what I expected,” Waverly tells her plainly and it catches Nicole off guard.

“Neither are you.” 

Waverly laughs at this. “Tell me.” 

“Someone with a stick up their ass, basically. If you want the short answer.” 

“I’ll take short or long, I’m not asking for details you can’t give. It’s just...nothing about this feels like the other times.”

“Okay. So now tell me what you were expecting of me. Some kind of criminal?” 

“No,” Waverly says carefully. “But a lot of the kids who come here  _ have _ broken the law. They’ve been dealing drugs or stealing or even in violent situations. They come here and refuse to even get out of bed on the first day. Or they run away like five times in the first week. Or they swear and they’re rude. But none of that’s you. And that’s great, it really is. For both of us. But it doesn’t make any sense to me why you’re in this program. It doesn’t make any sense that they give you good classes and let you have things like soccer privileges.”

“It kind of doesn’t to me either, if it helps.”

“Kind of, but it doesn’t help me to understand. Did you actually get into trouble with the police? Did your parents not intervene in some way?”

At this, Nicole clams up. She doesn’t want to talk about her folks. She doesn’t Waverly to feel sorry for her. In fact, she detests the idea. 

When she doesn’t speak again Waverly says, “oh. Okay. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to push too far. I just wanted to understand.”

“I get it. You get these people living in your home. That kinda doesn’t seem fair to me. Why shouldn’t you know the truth?” 

“I think you’re the first person who’s stayed with us who’s ever said that to me. Thanks.” 

“My parents weren’t around a lot. I kept it quiet for a long time. Then people found out, and they said I had to leave. It sucked because I was doing fine just looking out for myself. I had a house and stuff, it wasn’t like I didn’t have a safe place to sleep at night.” 

“Is that why your leg didn’t get fixed?” Waverly asks, sounding thoughtful and far away.

“I guess. No parents equals no money which equals no food. I had to work. Same as sometimes I had to skip class.” 

“And is that why you didn’t tell anyone at all that you were hurt?”

“I guess. Who the hell would I have gotten into the habit of telling this stuff to? Who’d have been around to care?” 

This is more than she had intended to say and she regrets it immediately. These are all facts other people could hold onto; could use against her in some way. Instead of pressing any further, however, Waverly simply says,

“Well now you have four people to tell this stuff to. And I’m glad you told me some of it already. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Waverly,” Nicole says, feeling gratitude for what is being said to her, but struggling to imagine herself believing or acting upon it. 

There is a long pause, and eventually Nicole simply assumes Waverly has fallen asleep. Eventually, however, she speaks into the darkness again.

“Oh, and Nicole?”

“Yeah?” 

“Now you have someone around who'll care about you too.” 

Nicole rolls over in bed and says nothing, instead focussing all of her energy on pretending that it is the way her leg throbs when she moves that makes her eyes water. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Some comments and feedback would reeaaally be appreciated.
> 
> You can always give me a shout on twitter too @rositabustiiios
> 
> Take care and see you next week!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all enjoying the story so far! 
> 
> Just a warning for context-appropriate, mild homophobia in this chapter from none other than Stephanie Jones and fan favourite Champ Hardy.
> 
> Ofc always use caution but it is really very mild.

The next few days at school are largely unremarkable, and before Nicole knows it she has survived her first week in Purgatory. 

She discovers on Tuesday that she shares an English class with Waverly, and it is a decently pleasant surprise even if, by the time Nicole gets to the classroom, Waverly is flanked by Chrissy and their gaggle of unpleasant friends. Nicole sits a desk away, ignoring the way one of the friends glares when Nicole says hi to Waverly on her way to find a seat.

Other than that, things pan out almost entirely as she had expected. With the exception of Math, which sucks here, she enjoys the classes she enjoyed in Ottawa, and she finds them all as easy or as challenging as before. She does as many assignments as possible at school, then she goes back to Waverly’s house where they eat cookies, drink tea, and work through their homework. They eat dinner and then Waverly goes off on her own while Nicole has meetings with Curtis and Gus after school to discuss how she is feeling in her new environment. 

Nicole finds herself behaving almost as she expected; detached and distant when talking about the changes she has experienced in the last week, but not difficult in her demeanour. It is not like she had ever set out to be an asshole whilst here, but the McCreadys (and Earps) are all so nice that there would surely have been no one who could, in good conscience, give them a hard time. 

Curtis seems genuinely interested in her progress at school, and Gus fusses over her still diminished appetite and her injured leg. 

In fact, Nicole is fortunate that her next Phys Ed class is a theory course, because she had been forced by Gus to swear on pain of death that she would not do any more physical activity for at least a few days. 

The theory class is presumably designed for anyone who might be considering becoming a sports therapist or personal trainer, and is somewhat science-based. After his glaring lack of honour and sportsmanship earlier in the week, Champ Hardy (whose nickname utterly baffles Nicole) appears to struggle perpetually with all the technical information and Nicole can hardly bring herself to feel too sorry for him. 

He appears to be someone who has never heard the expression ‘better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt’. Champ Hardy talks a lot, Nicole learns, and he rarely says anything which is either nice or smart. 

At lunchtime on her first Friday in Purgatory, right after a practical Phys Ed class in which Nicole was not allowed to participate, she sees Hardy strolling about with some of Waverly’s friends, and the connection makes perfect sense to her. Any school grade’s bullies can usually be spotted a mile away, and they are also often the people who create an illusion of popularity, although most often they have mixed up fear and respect to an almost laughable degree. These kids, so far as Nicole can see, are no different. Mostly, she pays them no mind at all, although they do not seem to want to repay the favour.

‘New kid’ probably equals ‘easy pickings’ in their minds, but Nicole has always been happy to subvert others’ expectations. She has been doing so for years. 

Both Champ and Stephanie make a point of calling into the dining hall, as they do their rounds. They make a beeline for two vending machines at the back of the room, near enough to where Nicole is sitting. She has taken up residence with Robin again, both of them discussing the Physics assignment they had been given yesterday. 

When Stephanie sees Robin and Nicole sitting together, she unsubtly elbows Champ and directs his attention to Robin, who is sat with his back to them. 

Immediately they change course, and as Champ passes the table he deliberately crashes into the back of Robin’s chair. It makes a clatter that draws the attention of the other diners nearby, and it must hurt at least a little when Robin bangs into the table, but to his credit he manages to hardly react at all. The shadow of something passes behind his eyes - fear or resignation or frustration, perhaps - but Nicole would bet that no one saw it but her. 

“Oh sorry Jett, I didn’t see you there,” Champ declares with a sneer. “But maybe I was just distracted. I’m not used to seeing you with company.” 

Stephanie laughs, although the comment is not remotely funny, and adds,

“Must make a nice change for you, having someone to talk to.” She makes a point of sending an ugly look in look in Nicole’s direction. “But I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought _ she’d _ be remotely your type.” 

She and Champ laugh again. 

Nicole feels herself clenching her jaw at the comment. 

Of course, over the last week, she had picked up on _ something _ about Robin. Of course, through intuition or solidarity or even sheer dumb luck, Nicole had kind of _ noticed_, even after just a few days. She would never make any assumptions or ask any questions, but there was an obvious vibe around Robin that sort of just made her feel like it wouldn’t be the biggest shock in the world if he was in any way not straight. 

And whether he was out, had been outed, or it was simply something others had picked up on too, the way Stephanie was speaking immediately sets Nicole’s blood boiling. 

She watches as Robin flushes, mumbling something under his breath that sounds like _ ‘don’t know what you’re talking about_’ but it is as though he doesn’t have any interest in denying the assertion or fighting back against it.

Nicole understands; it’s not like things would suddenly get easier for him if he engaged with these kids. 

The part that hurts is the brief flicker of shame that visibly passes over Robin’s face, and the way he glances to Nicole for a millisecond, just to assess her reaction. In the past, Nicole has felt the same flush of hot, unpleasant embarrassment at her own identity, and she has worried what will happen when people found out she is gay. The worst was never the kids who she already knew were horrible, but the ones she had dared hope were nice enough to be allies, or even just borderline tolerant. Of course, in the city, things were a little easier. There were homophobes in her old school, but their presence was heavily diluted by the vast number of tolerant people around. 

Robin, Nicole knows, might be wondering just the same; _ she seemed nice enough but, when it comes down to it, is she going to be just like everyone else? _

Angry at every person who has ever made someone like her or (probably) Robin feel this way, Nicole does not realise she is glaring over at Champ and Stephanie until it is too late.

As with every other time she has shown Steph any form of open hostility, a voice in her head reminds her that she needs to be on her best behaviour and coast through this program with the McCreadys, but - to her own mind at least - this didn’t mean she had to pretend to like anyone who was doing their utmost to be openly detestable. 

“Got a problem?” Stephanie asks sharply when she notices the anger on Nicole’s face. 

“Oh, just one or two,” Nicole bites back, eyeing Steph and Champ pointedly. 

Stephanie curls her lip. “If you were smart you’d know who not to make an effort with. But I can’t say I’m surprised; you’re another one of the dumb McCready kids.”

Doing her best to keep her expression neutral, Nicole clenches her fists under the table and fights against a fresh wave of anger. There are few ways to get under her skin faster than to underestimate her intellect, but she does not want to give Stephanie the satisfaction of seeing her riled up. 

“I can assure you I’m a perfectly good judge of character.” 

At this, Steph just paints a deliberately bemused look on her face and shakes her head to herself. 

“Whatever. Just watch yourself,” she says before glaring at Robin with disdain. “I hear it’s catching.” 

With that, she and Champ leave, and an awkward silence follows in their wake. 

Nicole pauses in indecision, unsure as to whether Robin would take more comfort in her reassuring him or in her glossing over the implication of Stephanie’s words entirely. 

Across the table, he is still beet red and unable to meet her eye. 

Nicole feels terrible for him. If it were her, she’d want to know someone was on her team - literally or otherwise.

Seemingly both suffering the awkward silence, they both make to speak at once. Robin just beats her, however, when he says,

“Listen, what they were implying - ”

Already resolving to try and say something reassuring, Nicole unintentionally speaks over him.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” 

Robin pauses and blinks once. “What?” 

“I mean, it matters. Everyone’s identity matters, whatever yours is. But it wouldn’t bother a lot of people like it bothers them. And it doesn’t bother me.”

Taking a furtive glance over either shoulder to ensure that Champ and Stephanie really are out of earshot, Robin leans in and hisses,

“Do you have any idea how many people around here would ever be caught dead saying something like that?” 

Nicole shrugs. She had guessed that this place wouldn’t exactly be gay friendly. She would be lying if she said she had anticipated it being this bad, however. 

“Like ten?” she jokes, trying for nonchalance. She gets a good, reassuring vibe from everyone she currently lives with, but she thinks that ignorance might be bliss if it turns out that Waverly or Wynonna might be prejudiced too. 

“Generous,” Robin says, giving her a lopsided smile that doesn’t quite hold. “People out here hate anything that’s different. Which, by the way isn’t me saying...that you...that _ I’m _...it’s just a comment. And a warning, I guess. If they see you sticking with me, they’ll think the same of you probably. So it’s okay if you want to jump ship now.”

Nicole quirks an eyebrow.

“I know we’ve only known each other like a week but I’m kinda mad I give off the vibe of someone who deserts.”

“Oh, you don’t,” Robin assures her with a grin that is easier and more relaxed now. “But if them thinking certain..._ things _...about you is something that bothers you, you should know what they say about me and what they’ll say about you too.” 

Feeling a little surge of courage and ignoring the way her heart always speeds up at this moment, she meets Robin’s eye and calmly states,

“Let them. I have nothing to hide.” 

She watches the cogs turn as Robin starts to twig on to what she is implying.

“And I mean, that isn’t to say I want every asshole and their mom knowing,” she goes on, voice so quiet Robin must barely be able to hear her. “But yeah. They’ll only be seeing me for who I am.”

Robin looks a little dumbfounded. 

“I mean, I know what you’re telling me and all,” he says, “but I think the correct response to seeing you for who you are, is that you’re really, really brave.”

**   
  
  
  
  
  
**

They continue their conversation during Physics, during which time Nicole makes no attempt not to sit by Robin right away. They both speed through the problem set and the experiments, leaving them fifteen minutes to spare. They use the time to talk, content to be in the back corner of the room and swaddled by the noise and chaos of a room full of other students trying to successfully complete their own experiments. 

“I’ve never actually, uh, never really known someone who’s just able to say it like that,” Robin admits apropos of nothing. “I think in part that’s why it’s hard for me too.” 

Nicole nods, understanding the gift she is being given when someone like Robin comes out. Of course, that applies to anyone, but for someone like Robin secrecy quite literally equals safety and survival, and he was putting a lot of trust in someone he hardly knows.

However, Nicole understands that sometimes you just feel it; that vibe that someone is to be trusted, and that you understand each other. 

“In fairness,” Nicole points out gently, “I think it’s also probably hard for you because you go to school with a bunch of assholes.” 

“And you didn’t?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“I mean yeah I had my share of bigots,” she says. “But being in the city it’s just more liberal. It’s more common for people to be out and it’s like you said - if others are just going about being themselves, it’s easier for the chain reaction to follow.”

“Exactly,” Robin agrees firmly.

Nicole chuckles to herself. “Plus, I play ladies soccer. Half my team are lesbians.” 

“I can’t wait to move to the city,” Robin says earnestly, and Nicole can tell from his face that he has harboured dreams of the moment he gets to stick his middle finger up at Purgatory and move to somewhere where, in his mind, he can just be out and proud and never have to worry again.

In reality, Nicole knows it is not like that, but she also knows she has been fortunate in the life she has lead with regards to being gay. Her self-doubting, self-loathing, internalised homophobia phase was remarkably short and tranquil. She cannot imagine what Robin has been through. 

“I can’t wait to move _ back_,” she agrees. 

“Were your folks cool about it too?” Robin asks, seemingly carried along in the conversation and forgetting, momentarily, that Nicole is here in Purgatory for a reason.

At ease with the guy in much she same way she is with Dolls, Nicole forgets herself too.

With a snort, she replies, “like they ever cared about anything I said or did.” 

They both screech to a halt in their conversation, and the silence that follows is vaguely reminiscent of the silence that followed Champ and Stephanie’s visit to their lunch table earlier. 

“Fuck, I’m really sorry,” Robin says quietly. “I didn’t even think when I asked that.”

“Why should you?” Nicole says, genuinely not bothered that Robin asked the question. She is, however, embarrassed at her response. She scrabbles about for something to say to cover up her blunder, but realises far too late that she has said enough for Robin to read between the lines. They have both been pretty honest this past hour or two, so she figures there is room enough for a little more. Plus she has just learned something about herself. “So I guess it turns out that it’s far easier for me to tell you I’m gay than to admit that my parents don’t give a shit about me.” 

One of those things, Nicole decides, feels like power. The other, feels like her own failure. She could have been a better daughter somehow; then maybe her parents would have cared. 

“My mom died when I was eleven,” Robin whispers, looking down at his hands. “Up until that point my dad had been the kindest, most caring dude you’d ever want to meet. But he just lost it without mom. He couldn’t cope. He started drinking immediately after the funeral and I dunno if he ever stopped. He turned nasty; beat my ass after the gay rumours got back to him actually.” 

Nicole lets this admission settle with her for a moment. If anything, Robin has it a hundred times worse. Nicole’s parents always ignored her, but to experience proper familial love and then have it taken away twice over? Surely that had to hurt more. Nicole’s parents were never around enough to hurt her physically, or to care that she was gay. The only thing that ever seemed to register with them was that she wanted to be a cop, and for some reason they hated that more than Nicole could ever have expected. She thinks that life must be really unfair if someone like Robin gets left in his current situation but Nicole actually gets an intervention. Plus, it was an intervention she didn’t want. She knows which one of them needed it more. 

But then again, she supposes Robin is doing exactly what she herself did for years; he is hiding the signs.

“I’m really sorry Robin,” she says quietly. She knows better than anyone else that there is nothing more that can be said to an admission like that.

Finally, he meets her eye again. He flashes her a sad smile.

“Me too.” 

**   
  
  
  
  
  
**

As they leave class together later on, they both stroll towards the lockers together. 

“At least we’re free for two days,” Robin says, and although Nicole says nothing more on the subject of his father, she knows that a weekend cooped up at home might not really be freedom for Robin. She has seen how isolated the houses can be out here and is guessing he can’t just call round to the neighbours for a bit of respite. 

She figures, however, that if he wanted to talk about that he would do so. Given that he brings up the topic, Nicole takes this as her cue to lighten the mood as best as either of them can. 

“Not as free as I used to be,” she remarks lightly, thinking wistfully of soccer and work and the total freedom to come and go as she pleases. “Neglectful parents have some advantages. Less farm work, for example,” she adds as a joke. 

“Still, the family is nice, right?” Robin asks. “They’re not too harsh on you? I guess especially because you’re a bit of an anomaly for them. Like, you really don’t seem to have the behavioural problems a lot of their kids have.” 

“Only ‘cause you haven’t seen me Hulk out,” Nicole jokes and Robin chuckles. 

“But seriously, I should probably add, actually, that Waverly is one of only three people in this entire town that knows the rumours about me are true. And she’s been amazing about it. I’m not saying you suddenly have to start coming out left, right, and centre, but I’ve just realised I should probably tell you that the people you’re living with aren’t like a lot of the small-minded folks out here. You’re safe with them, at least in that sense. Wynonna too, even if she’s a total livewire. She’s a good person, a lot of people here just don’t see that.” 

Momentarily forgetting that she is already out to Curtis, Nicole says, “it’s not that I don’t believe you, I’m just curious, but how do you know that? I mean, I get Waverly. You’re in her grade. But her family?”

“Because I think Curtis and Gus have a sixth sense for kids who are struggling. I guess it comes from all their nieces and stuff. Because they made this big effort to invite me round, make sure I was okay. I’ve never told them anything and the visits have died down a bit since…” he pauses, looking around at all the people in the corridor. Not a single one is paying them any mind - everyone is just fixated on beginning their weekend - but Nicole understands the desire for privacy to discuss certain things. “Just ask Waverly when you two are alone why it’s all stopped. Tell her I said you could.” 

Nicole nods. “Will do.” 

“Also, Nicole? Thanks. Like, seriously.” Robin gives her a sheepish grin and runs his hand across the back of his neck in a sweet, embarrassed gesture. “You didn’t have to put yourself out there for me after what Champ and Stephanie said.” 

“Well, you didn’t either. So right back at you. Thank you.” 

“It’s just between us though yeah? Like I already a hundred percent trust you somehow, but…”

“No room for error, I got you. And no, just what you told me to ask Waverly.” 

They arrive at Robin’s locker, just a few feet away from Nicole’s, and she sees Waverly already waiting and surrounded as usual. Rach spots Nicole and Robin together and unsubtly makes her friends aware. 

By the time Nicole has bid goodbye to Robin and made it to her locker, a few of the girls are watching her carefully. The only oblivious ones are Waverly and Chrissy, who are deep in some conversation of their own. 

“Were we too subtle for you earlier?” Stephanie asks as Nicole opens her locker.

Staring carefully into the at her books, Nicole replies,

“I’m disinterested, not stupid.” 

“Just saying,” Stephanie points out innocently, “you could get yourself a reputation if you’re not careful.”

Nicole sighs, collects the right books, and carefully puts them in her backpack. As she zips the bag up and slings it onto her back, she turns to Stephanie and Rach.

“I cannot really tell you enough how much I don’t care about petty shit like that. I’m here because I have to be, not to get involved in whatever the hell you think you know.” 

Rach scoffs and finally pipes up. Nicole doesn’t think she has actually directly spoken to her yet. 

“Most people around here would care if people thought something like that about them. I know I would. So maybe it’s true?” 

“Well I’m not from around here am I? So there’s the difference. Where I’m from, kids wouldn’t bat an eyelid,” Nicole lies. 

Rach looks shocked. “So is it true? About either of you?” 

“How am I supposed to know the first damn thing about a dude I just met this week? Or were you planning on catching me up on everyone’s life stories now I’m at the one week mark?”

“Well,” Rach goes on, unperturbed by the hostility. “What about you then?” 

Nicole’s long, sardonic answers had given her all the time she needed to think about this question. She had never once hidden who she was, not from anyone, but she thinks of Robin and, indeed, of Waverly and her family. It wouldn’t just be Nicole who’d get shit for being gay. It would be a lot of people. 

“No,” she says without hesitation, although it burns her up inside to lie. “Not that it would matter if the answer was ‘yes’”. 

She knows she has sounded convincing, and knows too that her answer should get this group of prize idiots off Robin’s back for a while too. 

“Good,” Steph says. “Just so we’re all clear.”

**   
  
  
  
  
  
**

For the first time all week, Gus is the one to meet Nicole and Waverly in the parking lot. 

Nicole is still fuming by the time she straps herself in. In fact, she is so angry, she can feel her hands shaking.

She has never had to deny her identity before, and she is angry at these people and this environment for forcing others into such a corner. 

She is also, unfairly, a little angry at Waverly too. 

By the time Nicole had turned away from her locker, Waverly and Chrissy had been diverted from their own conversation by the undertone of anger in all of the other girls’ voices. There was no denying that they'd heard a large part of Nicole's interaction with Steph and Rach. 

Robin had said Waverly was accepting, but if she was such a good ally she wasn’t exactly using her voice about it. Deep down, Nicole understands why, but a more surface level self-righteous anger crops up at the way Waverly seems to let a lot of things slide without standing up for herself or others. 

Gus greets both the girls merrily and if either she or Waverly picks up on Nicole’s mood, neither of them says anything about it. 

“Wynonna sometimes works in a bar out of town at the weekends,” Gus says, presumably for Nicole’s benefit. “So Waverly has always come to work with us so she can sit and get her homework done. We’ll keep with the routine for a while, but maybe I’ll be able to quickly drop you both home in the future.”

This, Nicole understands, is a tacit way of saying that she needs to prove herself trustworthy. She silently thinks that she is not entirely sure what difference it makes having only Waverly around and not Wynonna too, because the older sister seems far more likely to be the rule breaker. But, Nicole supposes, Gus and Curtis probably don’t want to put too much on Waverly, and leaving her home alone with someone who is still almost a stranger seemed to qualify as ‘a bit too much’. 

“Normally I just sit in one of the booths and do my homework so I can have the weekend to myself,” Waverly explains. “And Gus will bring us bottomless soda if we ask her nicely, so it’s not the worst.” 

“I wouldn’t get ideas above your station,” Gus bats back, but it is obvious she is teasing. 

It is more obvious still when, within half an hour of Waverly and Nicole setting up station in a small bar that is every Wild West stereotype ever devised, Gus pops out of the kitchen with a hamburger for Nicole and some kind of vegetable burger for Waverly. 

The girls eat as they work, and before long Gus has brought two fresh glasses of lemonade and two more plates of fries. 

Nicole is working on a Political Science essay as Waverly quietly murmurs French sentences under her breath, and doesn’t even notice how much food she has eaten until Gus collects the plates and pats her gently on the shoulder.

“I’m glad to see that someone is finally working up an appetite.” 

“Oh,” Nicole says, thinking about how, for the first time in weeks, she doesn’t feel completely sick. “I guess I just need to get used to it.” 

“You will,” Gus says with a smile, “and with work around home, your sports classes, and maybe some soccer, you’re going to need lots to eat.” 

Sensing an in-road into something she has wanted to ask for a while, Nicole says,

“I also go on runs in the mornings. I used to. Will I be able to do that here?” 

“Once that leg’s totally healed, yeah?” Gus says, but it doesn’t sound like any kind of brush off. Nicole feels heartened. Perhaps things won’t be too bad here after all. 

“I mean it's pretty much fine now but, okay, yeah. Thanks.” 

“No problem. I’m going to get some dessert for your girls.”

Gus bustles off, collecting a few more empty plates and glasses and when Nicole looks away she finds Waverly watching her oddly. 

“Get used to what?” she asks, and Nicole has to wrack her brains for a second before realising what she has said to Gus a moment ago. It is the second time this afternoon that she has slipped up, but unlike Robin, Waverly does not seem to have a frame of reference for what an unstable family life looks like. It is harder to tell people when they probably won’t understand. 

“Just having regular meals, I guess.”

“Oh,” Waverly replies and immediately that look is there on her face, that look of pity and sadness that Nicole wished she never had to see again. 

“It’s fine. It’s nothing,” Nicole says quickly. “Just forget I said anything.” 

“You say that about a lot of stuff, huh?” Waverly says carefully, studying Nicole’s face.

“I say what?” 

“‘It’s nothing, forget about it,’” Waverly parrots. “First your leg, now this.”

“That’s only two things,” Nicole points out.

“But I bet you say it about other stuff too. Stuff that’s not nothing. Neither of those things are ‘nothing’. They’re important.” 

“They’re nothing to me. I don’t like talking about it all.” 

“I get that,” Waverly says quietly. “I’m not trying to make you, by the way. I’m just saying. It’s not nothing. Stuff that affects you doesn’t have to be brushed off.” 

“You sound like your uncle.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Waverly says with a little smile.

“I know.” 

“And anyway, if I do, it’s just because he had to drum this stuff into me too. I’m just trying to help, I guess.” 

“I know, I appreciate it,” Nicole says quickly, not wanting Waverly to think she is ungrateful. “It’s just hard, knowing people pity you for stuff you can’t even control.” 

“I don’t pity you…”

“Maybe you don’t think you do, but I saw the ‘Pity Look’ on your face too.” 

Waverly’s expression grows shocked and a little sad. “Nicole, people caring isn’t always pity, right?” 

Nicole bites back the urge to say ‘same difference’. She knows that there is a distinction, but only Dolls has ever really made it a clear one. 

“You don’t know me enough to care.” 

“Correction: I haven’t known you long. Doesn’t mean I don’t know you _enough_, or that I’m not allowed to care. We’re roommates so I already know stuff about you.”

“Maybe, but that means accepting that I know stuff about you too then.” 

Waverly opens her mouth to argue, before closing it again. Perhaps she has her uncle’s voice in her head but Nicole has seen the way she closes down sometimes and sections parts of herself off depending on who she’s with. To a degree, everyone does, but there is a difference between curating your behaviour and fitting into boxes. Waverly is definitely doing the latter. 

“Okay wise guy, I’ll give you that one,” Waverly says with a smile. 

“Very smart decision.”

Turning back to her homework, Waverly changes the subject.

“Are you nearly done? This is my last thing then I can forget school until Monday morning.” 

“Just have to write my conclusion,” Nicole says, gesturing down at her hand-written essay. Apparently that’s a thing here. Nicole simply admires the person who wants to read through her own and others’ scruffy writing. 

“Why Political Science?” Waverly asks, checking a translation on a dictionary on her phone. “It’s not super common that anyone here takes it.” 

“Purgatory not super engaged with the outside political scene?” Nicole quips and Waverly rolls her eyes.

She crosses her arms over her chest and levels a beady look at Nicole across the table.

“I know people come here thinking we’re all going to be a bunch of hillbillies but we’re not totally backwards, you know.” 

“I mean, you have seen this bar, right?” Nicole teases, unable to hold back a laugh. Waverly is pretty cute when she gets wound up, even if they both know they’re joking. “It basically hasn’t changed in two hundred years.” 

“It’s _ atmospheric_,” Waverly says, poking her tongue out. 

“And still painfully stereotypical,” Nicole points out. “It can be two things. And besides, you said it yourself when you asked about my class. And yes, you’re right, there are about eight people in it.” 

Waverly giggles and holds her hands up in acquiescence. “Okay, fine, I’ll admit that people out here aren’t the most politically aware.”

“Or tolerant,” Nicole adds and immediately the atmosphere changes. She hadn’t meant to let the joking tone slide; she hadn’t really meant to make the comment at all. It had just slipped out.

“What does that mean?” Waverly asks, sounding rather as though she already knows the answer. There is no tension between them, but it is very obvious that Nicole has touched a bit of a nerve without intending to do so. 

“Nothing, just that I’ve been hanging around with Robin, uh Jett, I think his surname is. You and Wynonna weren’t kidding, huh?” 

Waverly’s face falls. “Oh. Yeah. It’s been pretty ugly for him. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

“But you see what I mean then, about the tolerance thing. You were there before, when Steph and Rach were taking me to task.” 

Nicole thought she had wholeheartedly put her frustrations from earlier to one side, but as a little of the anger floods back to her, she realises that perhaps this is the kind of thing that needs to be exorcised. 

“In fact,” she goes on before Waverly can speak, “Robin wanted to tell me something, apparently he hangs around at your place less now? He said I should ask you because there’s too many people whenever we're at school.” 

“He told you that?” Waverly asks, sounding surprised. “Sorry, I don’t mean...it’s just…”

“He doesn’t exactly go standing on rooftops shouting that he’s gay? I wonder why,” Nicole snarks.

“People don’t really know - like, in the sense that there was this huge rumour earlier this year before the summer vacation. But it never got confirmed.” 

“Except to you and Chrissy.” 

Waverly nods. “Right.”

“Look, it’s not like you have to say. I’m not sat here dying to know what bad shit went down, like it’s something for my own personal gossip stock. He just said I should ask you, probably in part so you’d know I know too.” 

“It’s just weird. Keeping a secret for someone then being told to tell it. But like, the short story is he and Chrissy dated for a while. Then we were at this uh,” she pauses, poking her head out the booth and, satisfied her aunt is nowhere nearby, goes on, “this house party. Gus didn’t know, obviously. She called me, thinking I was at Chrissy’s place and I had to find a quiet place to answer, pronto. So I ran into the garden - it was pitch black. I basically ran right into Robin and a guy from the grade above making out. 

“And I’m not gonna lie, at first I was mad as hell. Not because of the gay thing, just because he was dating my friend and, shitty as this place is, cheating’s cheating, right? So I just went out of my mind all evening like ‘how am I gonna tell my best friend this’, and when we were back at hers for the night, I finally found the courage to tell her. And it turned out she knew. He’d tried to break up with her like two weeks earlier because he’d been having these feelings for Toby - that’s the guy in the grade above - and he felt bad stringing Chrissy along.

“She offered to just kind of not announce that they’d broken up, so that’s basically what was happening until the party. I’m guessing it wasn’t just me that caught them, or maybe Toby panicked and covered his own ass by damning Robin, but either way that’s when the rumours started. And, of course, Chrissy had to pretend to be shocked and it got kind of weird for her too since you know how people are in these situations.” 

Nicole shakes her head to herself. “Yeah. I’m guessing there was a lot of the use of the word ‘turn’.”

Waverly grimaces. “You got it.” 

“Poor Robin. And Chrissy I guess too. It sounded like she was trying to do a really nice thing.” 

“She just wanted to help. And once I knew Robin never cheated, I wanted to help too. But he told us just to feign ignorance. And because I’m best friends with Chrissy who practically lives at our place some weeks if her dad’s working a lot, it started raising eyebrows that Robin was there too. So it’s kind of petered out. I never asked him to do that, obviously. He just feels bad for dragging Chrissy into it.” 

Waverly pauses and Nicole takes in what she has been told. It was, if anything, worse than she’d thought. 

“Damn. People here can really dig that knife in, huh?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Waverly says darkly. 

“Poor Robin, he doesn’t deserve that at all.” 

“I know. And it’s not like he was Mr Popular to begin with, because I think maybe there’s always been a vibe? If I can say that. And some of the guys in the grade have always picked on him a fair bit. But yeah, it all just went nuclear meltdown before the summer.” 

“And I take it if they knew for sure it’d be even worse.”

“Oh God yeah,” Waverly says quickly. “A hundred percent. I literally don’t think there’s a single openly gay person in this town.” 

“But like, doesn’t that trouble you? At all?” 

“I mean, yeah. Of course it does. I don’t think all those awful things about gay people. I know it’s just a part of who we all are; it’s just love. Or whatever.”

“And all the awful things Steph or Rach said earlier?”

At this, Waverly gives Nicole a cautious look. 

“Make your point,” she says gently. 

Nicole opens her mouth, but before she can speak she regrets even bringing the topic up. Others’ prejudice isn’t Waverly’s fault. She and Chrissy had clearly demonstrated their support; they run in the same social circles as the likes of Champ or Stephanie, and they’ve kept their mouths shut. None of this is on Waverly.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t have a point.” 

“Well, I already know what you’re going to say, so you might as well.”

“I guess I just don’t understand. If you and Chrissy have been so good to Robin, if you really are supportive of gay people, why do you just let all the dumb shit they say - not just about gay people either, but about everyone - slide? I’m genuinely not trying to be an asshole. It’s not your fault they’re awful. I just don’t get it.” 

Despite her assertion that Waverly had guessed Nicole’s question, she still colours somewhat when Nicole speaks the words aloud. 

“I guess I’m just not as brave as you,” she says quietly, and although from some it might have come across as a low blow, Waverly seems to genuinely believe her own words. “I couldn’t believe it when you just stuck up for yourself like that last Sunday. I’ve only ever met one other person who’d do that, and you were both fighting on the same team.”

Nicole chuckles. “Wynonna?” 

“She’s never given two shits what people think about her. And something tells me you’re kind of similar.”

“I mean, it depends who it is. I don’t care if some random person in the grade doesn’t like me, no. But I have individual people in my life whose opinions matter.”

Nicole thinks that the numbers are pretty slim but still, the point stands; it isn’t that she doesn’t care what _ anyone _ things. Some people’s opinions are important to her. In a way, she kind of thinks Waverly’s opinion would be important too, for some reason. 

“See I’m not like that. I wish I was but I’m just not. I want people to like me; I never wanna be the bad guy.”

"Not even when other people are the worse guys?" 

“I don’t think so. I tend to just let sleeping dogs lie. And possibly the non-sleeping ones too, actually.” Waverly pauses a moment, surveying Nicole’s face and perhaps searching for something in particular. Ironically enough, Nicole half-suspects that Waverly is searching for her approval. “You must think I’m a really shitty person.”

“Not at all,” Nicole says firmly. “Me doing things differently doesn’t make you wrong, and it especially doesn’t make you a shitty person.”

Waverly smiles, but doesn’t get a chance to reply, as Gus appears with two more plates of food.

“Sorry girls,” she says with a sigh, “things got busier than expected.”

She sets down a plate of fruit and some kind of yoghurt for Waverly, and an enormous brownie and ice cream for Nicole, who cannot help but be amused by the disparity. 

“Vegan options out here,” Waverly says knowingly, even as she happily picks up her cutlery and starts on her food. 

Nicole follows suit and they lapse into silence as they eat. 

After a few moments of what cannot reasonably be called silence due to the noise levels in the bar, Waverly says,

“By the way, you never answered my original question.” 

Nicole quirks a brow. “Which was?”

“Why Political Science?”

Nicole spears a piece of brownie that is sticky and saturated with melted ice cream, before popping it in her mouth. 

“Because I was studying it at my old school,” she replies eventually, and Waverly rolls her eyes again.

“You know, it’s not like I’m trying to conduct the Spanish Inquisition.” 

“I know you’re not,” Nicole says, grinning at her. “Or if you are, you’re not a very good inquisitor.” 

“It doesn’t actually kill you to talk about yourself, you know that right?” 

Nicole eats another piece of brownie to give herself thinking room, trying to work out why she has not yet been able to give Waverly a direct answer about herself. It is all still so strange, having people who are interested in her life just for the sake of it. 

“Sorry,” she says quietly, meaning it. 

“You don’t have to be,” Waverly replies gently. 

“It’s a combination of not really having many people to ask the questions, and the fact that I hate kind of talking about, you know, what I want to do after school and stuff.”

“Why?” Waverly asks, looking genuinely puzzled.

Nicole assumes she is not questioning the part about not having many people around to take an interest, so she pulls a face and tries to work out how to tell Waverly the truth without _ actually _ telling her. In the end, however, there is no way around it and she figures she might as well try to carry on being honest. 

“So like, when I was in middle school, I had this bad phase. I guess you’ve kind of worked out by now that my parents aren’t really around. Like, ever, pretty much. And no one really knew about it until I got caught out recently.”

Nicole pauses and in the space it creates Waverly says,

“Do you mind me asking how? I mean, you don’t have to tell me, obviously. Like I said before, I’m not trying to make you talk if you don’t want to. I just want to understand.”

Nicole considers Waverly carefully for a moment. 

“I just don’t like - it makes people feel bad for me. You had it before when I mentioned food. But that’s kind of all it is really; no parents around equals no money which equals no food unless I work. Because I got paid and because I worked in a diner so one way or another, I ate. But sometimes when my parents would disappear for weeks, I’d run out of food or be incapable of going to school. So for another reason also related to them not being there, I missed a couple of classes this semester. When I got pulled up for truancy it came out that I didn’t really have anyone around looking out for me. So they deemed my folks unfit guardians and sent me here. That’s it, that’s the whole reason I’m here.”

Waverly nods. 

“I guess I knew it had to be something different to what I was used to. I know you don’t want to be here, I know you hate it here, but I’m not gonna pretend I’m not glad they didn’t make that call. You should have people around doing the stuff parents or guardians or whatever are supposed to do. Now you get to just concentrate on school, yeah? And whatever this big graduation secret you have is,” Waverly jokes lightly.

“I don’t hate it here,” Nicole corrects, realising for the first time that she actually means it. 

“I know you do. Everyone does.”

“No, I’m serious. I didn’t want to come here because I was doing fine on my own. By leaving I lost my job, my soccer team, the few friends I had. Yeah, my family situation sucks, but being here won’t change the fact I was never a good enough kid for my parents to care about. At least at home I had things that made life good still. Like it sounds dumb but I had a cat, and I miss her like hell. It’s not that this place is bad or you and your family haven’t been impossibly nice to me this week. It just…”

At this, Nicole trails off because, really, what _ is _ it? She has no idea how to finish that sentence so Waverly gives her a sad smile and supplies,

“It just isn’t home yet.” 

Nicole blinks. The little three-letter word Waverly chooses throws her for a loop.

_ Yet _. 

Nicole wonders how Waverly can be so certain that Nicole will feel at home in Purgatory, and more so why she even cares enough to want Nicole to do so.

Nicole’s whole MO had been to keep her head down and get past feeling like a fish out of water. 

She had never even considered a possibility that Purgatory would feel like home one day. She cannot, on any meaningful level, believe that this will ever happen. She does not, however, want to go quite so deep tracks with Waverly right now. 

Instead, she says, “I guess. But, the thing is, you’re meeting a version of me that doesn’t really care about my parents anymore. Or, as much as that’s ever gonna be possible. But in middle school I was still pissed off about it, I still thought I could change it. So I basically just did whatever I thought would get people to notice I was essentially drowning and didn’t have anyone to throw me a float. I stopped going to school and just acted out however I could. Basically what was probably my version of the kids who usually come on your uncle’s program. That’s probably why I got sent here, because of my record. So it sort of gave me this reputation amongst teachers and some of the kids in my grade of a bit of a no-hoper, because I fucked up so much so many years ago.” 

Waverly shakes her head.

“You didn’t fuck up. You can’t have. You wouldn’t be in AP classes now or working hard here if you had.” 

“Well no, obviously I sorted my shit out a bit.”

“How?” Waverly asks, and Nicole can tell she is genuinely curious about this snippet of information Nicole is offering. 

“I mean, the ‘how’ part was kind of easy. I just went back to working hard. The ‘why’ was the thing. I didn’t really see a reason to initially. Until I worked out that my parents still weren’t noticing any change in me. They weren’t noticing my grades slipping or me going to detention every night of the week. So I realised I was screwing myself and getting nothing in return. And you know what? Acting out is actually kind of an effort, as weird as that sounds. Dropping the whole act actually felt like going back to ‘normal’. So that’s what I did. Kind of worked out I had things I wanted to do in life. I uh, I actually want to be a cop. But when I tell people that now they kind of just laugh. I wasn’t the kind of kid who gets a job like that. But I never got into any legal trouble and if I can sort my shit now and maybe get a soccer scholarship, I might actually manage to get to college. So, yeah.” 

Feeling suddenly painfully vulnerable, Nicole shrugs and abruptly stops talking. Immediately, she wishes she had simply kept her mouth shut.

The less people who know the real her, the better. It is not a past she is proud of, and it is better if she keeps it to herself. 

Waverly bites at her lip for a moment, thinking.

“Okay, firstly,” she begins with a self-conscious little laugh, “I really didn’t expect you to tell me all that, so like, thanks. If that’s the right thing to say. I know it’s hard to tell people certain things about your past. Like really, trust me. I know. And secondly, I think that’s literally the coolest thing you could have told me and for what it’s worth people aren’t gonna pity you with a story like that. The way you kind of just decided to say ‘screw it’ and then make things work? Yeah, that’s totally badass.” 

Nicole finds herself laughing loudly. 

“You and I have a very different definition of ‘badass’, but thank you.” 

Waverly shrugs. “I don’t know, I just think it’s cool when people start doing things for themselves like you are. Like I said, I like making others happy too much.” 

“Yeah, well, I sort of realised I was never going to do that where my parents are concerned. So might as well make myself happy instead. And fucking up wasn’t doing that for me so,” Nicole mirrors Waverly gesture with a shrug of her own, “Thought I’d give something else a try.” 

“Well, wanting to be a cop is badass either way, so I still win,” Waverly points out with a playful pout. 

“And I thought _ I _was competitive,” Nicole teases back.

“You are, far more than me, that’s why I said it.” 

Nicole quirks a brow and realises far too late that she is flirting. “Is this a competition you want to start?” 

“I guess we’ll find out, huh?” Waverly returns with an easy smirk. 

Nicole feels her stomach turn over, and resists the urge to actively shake her head at herself. Less than one week in and she’s already going back on her vow not to let Waverly’s pretty face and bubbly personality disarm her completely - albeit totally unintentionally. She knows Waverly isn’t flirting back, but she is certainly making it very easy for Nicole to get butterflies over her. 

“You’re playing with fire, Earp,” Nicole warns, biting back a grin. Of all the surprises Purgatory has brought so far, finding out that Waverly is actually super cool is the biggest of all. Nicole likes talking with her, and she thinks the feeling might be mutual. “I never lose.” 

“Well get prepared for that to change.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“Your complacency is gonna be your downfall, mark my words.” 

It is at this point that they not only forget what they are really challenging each other over, but that they also lose the thread of the conversation to their own laughter. 

Gus returns to collect their empty dishes, looking both bemused and rather pleased at the way she finds the girls laughing together. 

“Finished?” she asks, glancing pointedly at the pile of books that Nicole and Waverly have now shunted to one side. As seems to be the standard for her, she manages to sound stern but look entirely too kind for it to really carry. Nicole is under no illusions that Gus could be commanding when she needed to be, but it seemed to be a trait that made only a rare appearance when absolutely necessary.

“Yep!” Waverly says brightly, making it clear that she is speaking for both of them. 

“Good,” Gus replies with a smile. “Curtis called to say he’s finished his work up at the Parkinsons’ farm, so he’s going to come and pick you both up.” 

She heads off again and sure enough, within the hour, Curtis pokes his head into the bar and gestures at the girls to step outside. 

There is a bite to the air that heralds the end of summer and beginning of fall, and it makes Nicole think longingly of the first nip of winter every weekend morning as the soccer season really got going. 

For only the second weekend ever, she will be missing her matches tomorrow and the day after, and even if she can feel life in Purgatory starting to settle, there are still things that she misses in a way that entirely negates any enjoyment she might learn to find in life here in the mountains. 

Strapped into the back of the truck as Curtis drives into the darkness of the unlit wilderness, she unlocks her phone and dims the screen before calling up her message with Dolls. She types, 

_ I’ll be cheering you on from Alberta tomorrow. I’m really sorry again. _

Dolls comes online immediately and starts typing a response.

_ I know you will be Haught.  
_ _ Don’t be sorry, you haven’t let anyone down. None of this was your fault. _

Nicole feels a lump spring to her throat. Dolls has done a lot for her during their friendship, and the only way she had known to repay him was to play her heart out every weekend and help get the team a win. 

**   
  
**

_ I know, it just doesn’t feel that way. _

**   
  
**

_ It will, eventually _ .  
_ How are things going there, anyway? _

**   
  
**

_ Yeah, they’re fine. Good, I guess.  
_ _ The family’s still nice. The girl I room with is really nice too.  
_ _ We’re friends, sort of. I think anyway.   
_ _ And school’s fine. There’s a guy in one of my classes who’s sort of my friend too.   
_ _ Everything’s alright, basically.   
_ _ I still want to come home though. _

**   
  
**

_ I get that Nicole, I really do.  
_ _ But I’m happier hearing that things are fine.  
_ _ This place might be good for you. _

**   
  
**

_ Maybe. I feel like I’ve failed already though.  
_ _ I promised myself I was going to just be super detached and keep my head down.  
_ _ But I guess it kinda hasn’t worked out. _

**   
  
**

_ Why would that make you feel like you’ve failed? _

**   
  
**

_ I don’t know. Because it feels like the system’s winning.  
_ _ I wasn’t gonna do anything but just get by, but I’ve already gone and told the girl here my whole life story.  
_ _ Like a total idiot. _

**   
  
**

_ I think we all know I’m not the best at opening up. _

**   
  
**

_ ...Understatement of the millennium. _

**   
  
**

_ But you should use me as an example of what not to do.  
_ _ It’s good you let that girl in.  
_ _ Sounds kind of an interesting situation… _

**   
  
**

_ Don’t get any ideas. She’s really nice.  
_ _ Straight as an arrow probably.  
_ _ Also my roommate. So that’s a big no.  
_ _ In addition to, oh I don’t know, living in the place that gay rights forgot. _

**   
  
**

_ Is it really that bad? _

**   
  
**

_ The dude I’ve made friends with is getting bullied because everyone thinks he’s gay. _

**   
  
**

_ Wow. It’s that kind of a place huh? _

**   
  
**

_ Yep.  
_ _ First time ever I’ve lied about being gay. It makes me feel awful. _

**   
  
**

_ That’s terrible, I’m really sorry man.   
_ _ But the family themselves? They must be accepting, right? _

**   
  
**

_ That’s the impression I get. The girl I room with seems to be and the uncle for sure is. _

**   
  
**

_ So long as you’re safe there. That’s all I really care about.  
_ _ Everything else will sort itself out. You’ll be back on the soccer team before the season’s out. _

**   
  
**

_ Thank you Dolls.  
_ _ I don’t say it often enough, but I really appreciate everything. _

_ I got you Haught. _

Nicole still has a lump bearing down at the back of her throat as Curtis drives up to the house, but she doesn’t really want anyone asking questions about her phone usage, so she locks the screen and slips the device back into her jacket pocket. 

So far, the family have been almost worryingly chilled out about her using her phone and laptop. She had expected to retain neither privilege, except perhaps use of her laptop for schoolwork, with an adult stood over her shoulder. 

She supposes they are taking an ‘innocent until proven guilty’ approach with her and although she doesn’t understand it, she is certainly not about to complain. 

As she and Waverly are about to head up the stairs to shower and sleep, Curtis stops Nicole on the first step. She pauses, her hand on the bannister.

“On the phone earlier Gus told me you like to go running,” he says gently. 

Nicole nods. 

“And that you go first thing in the morning?”

Another nod from Nicole. 

“And that you’d like to maintain this practice here?”

A final, firm nod. “Yes, I would. If that’s okay.” 

“How is your leg?” 

“It’s okay. Still sore but just because it’s closed up. Not sore like it’s still a deep cut.” 

“Okay. And will you be up, done running, and ready for breakfast in time to join Waverly and Wynonna at work tomorrow morning?” 

“Yes, I’ll make sure I am.” 

“Then you can go. Make sure it’s light enough when you head out, and that you don’t lose sight of the farm, okay?” 

Nicole cannot help but grin. Running means solitary time, something she has been craving for the past week. Currently, the only time she gets to be alone is when she is using the bathroom. It has been quite an adjustment for someone who would go for weeks on end with no one disturbing her in her home. She feels like she hasn’t had any complete peace and quiet in forever, rather than a few short days. 

“Sure, I’ll keep to the path I’ve seen. That goes around, right?” Nicole asks, thinking she can just do a couple of laps of the perimeter. She would love to have a more scenic route, but she is not about to rock this particular boat just yet. 

“It does. This is more about your safety, okay? We’ve got a lot of coyotes out here, and wolves and bears somewhere. Although those two don’t come near our home, you can never be too careful. We don’t want anything to happen to you.” 

“It’s fine. I just need to keep my time up. I want to make sure I can keep up with my teams. You know, when I get home,” Nicole says, trying to sound nonchalant and not like this feels like the first lifeline she has been thrown in a long time. 

“Of course. Let’s see how you go tomorrow. When the winter sets in you might have to find a better option anyway.” 

Nicole grins. Any port in a storm works for now. 

“Sure, thanks.”

“You’re very welcome Nicole. We’re really happy with how you’ve approached life here so far. There’s no reason we won’t always try and meet you in the middle.” 

Once the two girls are back in Waverly’s room, Nicole sits herself on her bed and asks,

“Is that really how quickly it goes? I’m on my best behaviour for one week and I get my running privileges? What if this is my big ploy to run away?” 

Waverly smiles. “Nicole, I don’t think you realise. You’re the first kid we’ve ever had who got out of bed on the first day, and who went to school more than once in the first week. Plus, you’re smart. You know as well as we do that if you run somewhere out here, you’ll be lucky to find civilisation again. Or at least, somewhere you’re not just gonna get reported back to us. You’re allowed out because my aunt and uncle obviously like you, and I do too.” 

Nicole smiles to herself, bemused that something as bare minimum as going to school has apparently endeared her to these people so quickly. All the same, she does not really believe that Waverly and her family really like her on anything more than a superficial level. They have all been pushed together, and when Nicole is gone in January, very little in their lives will change. 

“Well, for the record, I’m not planning on bolting tomorrow,” she clarifies. “I really do just want to go for a run.” 

“I know Forrest, and we’re good with that.” 

Nicole groans. “Okay, that was the worst. I wish I could unhear it.” 

“And yet,” Waverly says with a self-satisfied grin, “you never will.”

**   
  
  
  
  
**

All jokes aside, Nicole thinks she might never have felt anything better than the moment she creeps out the back door of the house bright and early the next morning, the same wintry nip as the night before clawing at her skin.

The morning is clear and cool, and a light frost is peppered over the short grass of the yard. It is cold in just her t-shirt and shorts, but she knows she will warm up in a moment or two. 

She had woken extremely early in order to ensure that she is back perfectly on time - she does not want something as simple as a genuine mistake losing her this privilege on the first try.

Waverly had stirred at the sound of Nicole’s alarm but once it was shut off, she had rolled over with a sigh and gone right back to sleep. 

Nicole had dressed in the bathroom and crept silently down the stairs, already perfectly aware of where they creak the worst. 

A moment later and she has her earbuds in and she is running, and it feels like every tiny release she has craved since she walked through airport security back in Ottawa. 

Her leg protests for a few paces, and the cold stings at her cheeks and makes her eyes water, but once her heart rate picks up she feels fine. In fact, she feels better than fine. 

The steady _ thud-thud _ of her sneakers on the path, accompanied by the occasional crunch of loose gravel, is hypnotic, especially the way she feels it as a vibration from her feet upwards as much as she hears it over the music playing through her headphones. 

After a lap or two around the grounds and property, the familiar strain in her legs starts up but it takes her another circuit before she realises why everything feels so different. It has been a while since she has exercised without the heavy spectre of fatigue and hunger snapping at her heels, and despite being a week out of practice, running feels easier than it has in months. 

Her trainer app chirps with every bit of progress she makes and, all told, after an hour circling around the farm and house, she has logged a run that, although far from her PB, is one she can be happy with. 

She comes to a halt a few paces from the back door, bending at the knee and bracing her hands on her thighs as she catches her breath. She had started out the run with the intention to mull the past week over, but instead had found her mind clearing, almost of its own accord, for the first time in a long time. It is like a fog has lifted, though what exactly that fog had been - perhaps melancholy, confusion, or hopelessness - she cannot say for sure. 

Instead, with her blood pumping and endorphins flowing, she is happy and weightless as she reenters the house a moment later, still breathing heavily. She leaves her sneakers by the door and walks through the utility room and into the kitchen right as Curtis sits down with a cup of coffee and yesterday’s newspaper. 

Both he and Gus, who is stood at the stove and attending to a batch of pancakes bubbling merrily away, look up as Nicole enters, her hands tingling at the sudden change in temperature. 

There is little point in her showering, since it is Saturday, which means farm work for her and the sisters so, for a second, she hovers in the doorway.

“Is it okay for me to stay in here?” she asks and waits for Gus and Curtis’ enthusiastic affirmatives before drifting to the chair at the dining table that has unofficially become her own seat.

“How did it go?” Gus asks, pouring Nicole a glass of water and handing it to Nicole almost on autopilot. 

“It was fun. I thought I’d find it harder after a week of doing nothing, but I was pretty fast,” Nicole cannot help but sound and feel excited; she is proud of her efforts and still exhilarated by all the exertion.

“Well,” Curtis says with a smile, “I don’t know if all that running is my definition of fun, but I saw your last lap. ‘Fast’ certainly covers it. I can see why you must miss your sports teams.” 

“And your leg?” Gus asks, one-track mind presumably still on course. 

“Yeah, fine. Actually better than I thought it’d be. I think I need to strengthen it up a bit now.” 

“If that’s the case, and it still feels okay by lunchtime when you’ve done all your work, I’ll write you a note saying you can start up your practical Physical Education classes again.” 

“But be careful,” Curtis adds, tone gently teasing. “No more dives onto home base, or sliding tackles, or anything too fancy.”

Nicole rolls her eyes, hoping she will get away with the gesture since it is obvious Curtis is messing with her. 

“Tell that to Champ Hardy. Even the coach said it was obstruction.”

“You know,” Gus says to Curtis directly, “the more I hear about the way that Hardy lad is going, the less I like it.” 

Curtis hums an acknowledgement, spreading his palms as if to say _ it’s not my place to judge _.

After a momentary pause, the three of them continue to chatter away - mostly about Nicole’s interest in sports - as they wait for the pancakes to cook. Gus gradually builds up enormous stacks of the things on five waiting plates and Nicole, on autopilot, drifts to the cupboard full of glasses. She gets enough out for everyone, then asks if she is allowed some orange juice. 

“Of course, honey,” Gus says absently, pouring out three more helpings of batter. It is the first time all week that she has let her typical endearment - used frequently for her husband and nieces - slip for Nicole, who assumes it was an unintentional mistake. 

Nicole takes an enormous carton from the fridge, and thinks to fill up everyone else’s glasses along with her own. If breakfast is nearly ready, Wynonna and Waverly won’t be long. 

“From now on Nicole,” Curtis begins thoughtfully, “we don’t want you to ask for stuff like that, okay? You live here, you don’t have to ask for food or drinks, or to take up space here. Of course, we still want to know if you want to leave the house or go somewhere outside of here or school, but you don’t have to feel like you're on the outside.” 

Nicole nods and says ‘thank you’ but thinks to herself that she _ is _ a guest and an outsider here, by grace of the very circumstances that brought her into the house.

Their conversation is interrupted by Wynonna’s arrival. She staggers into the kitchen looking bleary-eyed and tired, and Nicole supposes she can’t have had much sleep if she was working a night shift at a bar too. She plops unceremoniously into the seat to Nicole’s left. 

“I can’t believe you _ run_. Or, at first I couldn’t,” she says, an accusatorial not to her voice. “But then I thought ‘of _ course_’ she does.” 

Nicole pulls a confused expression. “I don’t even know what to say to that.” 

“Maybe something like 'sorry for showing the rest of us up?’” Wynonna suggests, like it is obvious. 

“You could take a morning run too,” Nicole points out fairly. 

Wynonna curls her top lip in mock disgust. “Don’t _ ever _ say that to me again.” 

Nicole laughs to herself. “Duly noted.” 

At this, Waverly also arrives, bidding everyone good morning as she sits on Nicole’s other side.

“No point trying to get Wynonna to do any physical activity,” she says in response to the tail-end of Wynonna and Nicole’s conversation.

At her choice of words Wynonna quirks an eyebrow and Nicole cannot hold back a tiny snort. 

“Don’t,” Waverly says. “I literally don’t even want to go there.” 

Taking mercy on Waverly, Nicole says, “I hope I didn’t disturb you earlier.”

Waverly, who had just taken a sip of juice, shakes her head quickly and moves the glass away from her lips.

Swallowing, she says, “no, don’t worry, I barely even heard you.” After a pause, she asks, “how was it? Your run? How do you feel?” 

Nicole considers the question before smiling.

“Yeah, the run was fun. I feel good. Really, good actually.” 

For the first time all week, Nicole considers how true this statement is, and how long it has been since she really felt this way. 

With a jolt, she realises that all of this - all this change - might be working, and it doesn’t even seem like anyone has done anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would really appreciate hearing your thoughts! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and take care.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of emotions and sharing in this chapter, and hopefully some growth for Nicole _and_ Waverly. 
> 
> Thank you so much if you've been reading so far

“What are you doing when we finish up here?” Waverly asks, sounding a little breathless as she lugs an enormous bundle of hay across the stable. 

Nicole looks up from where she is cutting up vegetables for the horses. Slightly nonplussed by the question, she shares an incredulous look with Wynonna.

“I mean, my options are pretty endless,” she quips. “Given that I have no means of transport, don’t know anybody but you and your family, have no money, and need to ask permission to leave the house. So with that in mind, I was thinking maybe start with an afternoon spa session.” 

“Sounds good,” Wynonna says, picking up the joke. “I’ll come.” 

“Of course.” 

“We can get a nice meal afterwards.” 

Nicole grins. “Romantic, I like it.” 

“Maybe hit the bar later?” 

“For sure, I’m in.” Nicole agrees, then looking up with as straight a face as she can maintain, she asks Waverly, “what about you?”

Both Nicole and Wynonna burst into laughter as they catch sight of Waverly, stood at the other end of the stable and illuminated by a weak, dusty chink of light that creeps between the rafters. Wearing a rather impressive scowl, she crosses her arms and tilts her chin in a haughty way.

“You two are actually awful, you know that right?”

“We try,” Wynonna says, sounding proud. 

“Not a compliment.” 

“Sorry,” Nicole says, holding her hands up in acquiescence, but failing to sound particularly contrite as she chuckles to herself. “It was just an unexpected question.”

“Well, for all I knew, you had your mind set on reading or playing a video game or something,” Waverly says with a huff, still sounding a little put out. 

“I get it, honestly. I was just messing. But no, didn’t have my heart set on anything in particular. Why do you ask?” 

Waverly pouts. “The temptation to tell you that it doesn’t matter now is so, so strong.” 

“My curiosity would not outweigh my determination not to give in if you did that,” Nicole says with confidence.

“I can tell that, that’s partly why I didn’t say it.”

“What’s the other part?” Nicole asks. 

“She really wants to do whatever she was gonna suggest,” Wynonna states, calling over her shoulder as she pops out of the barn, presumably to collect some supplies or tools. 

Nicole pauses in her work, mildly surprised that Waverly wants to suggest they do something together. 

“You wanted to do something?” 

At this Waverly looks suddenly unsure.

“It was uh, actually to show you something,” she says, sounding uncharacteristically shy. “Only if you want to, though. I thought we could kill two birds with one stone, maybe get a couple of these guys out for a bit.” 

She gestures at the horses, and Nicole feels an immediate knee-jerk hesitation. She has never ridden a horse before, and it is not an activity she has ever especially yearned to do. 

“Oh,” she says, casting about for a way to say that she is surprisingly nervous at the thought of sitting on the back of a horse. Waverly, however, misreads her hesitation completely.

“I mean, obviously if you don’t want to hang out, it’s totally cool. You’re with me a lot.”

Nicole shakes her head quickly to try to dispel any misunderstandings.

“Oh no, it’s not that. I like hanging out. Totally down for that part, not quite so down for the riding a horse part.” 

“You’ve never been before?” Waverly asks, sounding slightly surprised. 

“I’m from the city,” Nicole points out. “I’m pretty sure I went once, when I was a really little kid. And I’m pretty sure what happened was someone sat me on a pony and held me upright as we walked around on the horse. That’s as far as my experience goes.”

“That sounds adorable,” Waverly teases with a coo, wrinkling her nose to hammer the sentiment home. 

“Don’t,” Nicole warns playfully, going back to cutting up treats for the horses. 

“Well if you’re that worried you don’t have to ride on your own. But I reckon you can’t come all the way out here and say you haven’t tried it,” Waverly points out, one eyebrow arched, and Nicole knows a challenge when she sees and hears one.

“Okay, fine,” she replies nonchalantly. “Show me once first though.” 

“Sure. Also, it’s not that exciting, the thing I wanted to show you. I just thought you might like it.” 

“I’m sure I will,” Nicole says easily, trying to work out how to express to Waverly that she has got literally nothing else to do, and an offer to spend time outdoors with company is a good prospect, without it sounding as though she is agreeing because she has no other plans. In the end she settles for simply saying, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Waverly smiles, so it seems that the sentiment has carried.

With that agreed, Nicole finds herself traipsing back outside after lunch with the family, already starting to slightly rethink her decision to ride a horse. 

It is not that she is averse to the idea, or even that it might be unsafe, she just feels faintly absurd; like something out of  _ Little House On The Prairie. _

Waverly leads her back to the stable and begins getting one of the Powerpuff horses, as Nicole has started referring to them (it is already catching on) ready to head outside. 

“I don’t actually do this half as often as I should,” Waverly says as she works, “I guess it makes me feel a little guilty. I just don’t love it enough to go out unless I have a reason, like I want to get somewhere.”

“So is this your way of telling me we’re both winging it?” Nicole jokes.

“ _ No _ ,” Waverly huffs. “It’s like riding a bike.” 

“Right, because it has four legs instead of two wheels,” Nicole says seriously, coming to stand by Waverly to watch what she is doing. 

Waverly turns to look at Nicole directly, chin tilting up so she can meet Nicole’s gaze properly. She levels an unimpressed, beady stare at Nicole, but the corners of her mouth keep pulling up and threatening to give her away. 

“I don’t know why I like you, you’re actually really mean.” 

Nicole grins. “And now I know you’ll like me either way, I have no reason to stop.” 

“I just keep walking into these things, don’t I?” Waverly says with a sigh, but she is smiling so Nicole doesn’t feel too bad. 

“Kind of, but I like you anyway.” 

“Not surprising, I’m very likeable,” Waverly says with a self-satisfied little smile. 

“Your big head will weigh the horse down too much if you’re not careful.” 

Waverly pretends to jostle at Nicole in mock anger, and they engage in an underwhelming pretend fight for a few seconds, while Buttercup the horse watches on impassively, waiting for Waverly to resume saddling her. 

"I've forgotten what you even annoyed me about by now," Waverly jokes, resuming her task. 

“Oh, well, to recap: riding a horse is like riding a bike.” 

Groaning, Waverly once again knocks her shoulder into Nicole’s arm playfully in retort.

“ _ Ass.  _ I just meant In the sense that you never really forget how. So you can't pretend I'm putting you in mortal peril or something."

"Funny that you think I'm scared," Nicole says, voice pitched as a direct challenge. 

"Well, what else am I gonna think? I get it when people are. Horses can be domesticated but they'll do what they want."

"Are you  _ trying  _ to make me scared now or…?" 

"Well it'd be interesting to know what would work on you, Mrs 'I Nearly Took My Leg Off But Never Went To The Hospital Because It's Nothing'. But no, I'm not actively trying scare tactics."

"Good, because neither of those things would cut it."

"So it you're not  _ scared  _ of riding, what's the problem?" 

"I don't know, I don't have a problem, per sé," Nicole says, driving the toe of her sneaker into the hard ground of the stable. "I just feel a bit out of sorts, stupid I guess. It's just never been my thing. I don't know how I'll be at it." 

"Ah. So being bad at things scares you," Waverly says, still fooling around but sounding a little triumphant all the same."

"Not scares, but I don't like it. Does anyone?" 

"No, but you seem like the kind of person who likes a challenge," Waverly says, eyes glimmering playfully. Nicole knows rationally that there is no deeper meaning to the comment, but for the briefest of moments it doesn't look or sound that way. Indeed, she cannot help but reply in kind. 

"Oh I like a  _ challenge _ ," she replies with a bold look that has Waverly's gaze darting away and returning to Nicole again so fast Nicole might have imagined it. "But only when I really want what's waiting at the other end of it."

"And this isn't one of those times?" 

"This is for sure one of those times."

"Okay," Waverly says, tightening one last part of the saddle and harness with deliberate effort and purpose. "So let's go then." 

Once they have lead the horse outside, Waverly jumps up into the saddle first, grabbing onto the reins with one hand and steadying Buttercup enough that she can offer her free hand to Nicole, who manages to get her foot up onto the stirrup and swing herself up and behind Waverly with surprisingly little trouble. 

Waverly gently encourages the horse into a walk, and immediately Nicole feels herself struggle to realign her centre of balance. There is not a lot to grip onto with Waverly holding the reins, and Nicole’s immediate reaction is to anchor her hands on either side of the saddle. There is a soft blanket cushioning Buttercup’s back from the leather saddle and the weight of the two girls, and it feels nice against Nicole’s fingers.

“You alright?” Waverly asks, feeling the way Nicole shoots her arms out to steady herself. 

“Fine,” Nicole answers, “just had my balance off slightly.”

“Hold onto me if you like. It’ll probably be the best way to feel steady.”

Nicole thinks that it will have the opposite effect, but cannot really say that to Waverly. Instead, and to her own embarrassment, she mutters something that just about sounds like ‘oh, uh, okay’, before scooting forward in the saddle and following instructions. 

She cannot help but feel hyper-aware of how close their bodies are as she wraps her arms around Waverly’s waist. It feels only slightly less awkward than any of the alternatives, and when Waverly doesn’t correct her, Nicole assumes she has somehow made the right choice. 

Gradually, Waverly coaxes the horse into a slightly faster pace and the longer they move the less uneasy Nicole feels about holding onto Waverly so closely. The other girl does not seem in the slightest bit perturbed. In fact, ten minutes in, she leans back into Nicole and says,

“You’re ridiculously warm, it’s like having a portable heater with me.” 

“Shit sorry, I know I run pretty warm. You want me to let go?” 

“No way! I’m always cold, this is like, the nicest way to ride a horse ever.” 

She stays close to Nicole, her shoulder occasionally grazing Nicole’s chin. They are so close that Nicole is tempted to drop her chin and relax completely against Waverly, but it feels far too forward for how long they have known each other. 

Instead, Nicole does her best to distract herself with the countryside around them. It is mostly flat, green fields stretching out from the farm’s land, some of them still given over to the last late growth of crops. Off in the near distance the landscape begins its incline towards the steep mountains, and to the girls’ left a copse of trees springs up, retaining a modest density for a while, until it begins to spread outwards into a large forest. 

To Nicole’s surprise, they take a path towards the trees and although the house is always just about in sight, they travel further than Nicole had thought would be allowed. 

Then, completely unexpectedly, they begin following a worn path that winds itself amongst the trees, both Waverly and the horse seemingly on autopilot - as if they have done this a million times before. 

“I thought we’re not supposed to be out here?” Nicole points out, the unspoken question heavy in her voice.

“Technically, we’re only supposed to if there’s more than one person, and if we tell someone where we’re going.”

“Your uncle told me about the coyotes…”

“Yeah, there are all sorts of creatures out here. But in the daytime, and while you’re with the horse, they shouldn’t come near you. It’s fine.” 

Nicole nods, not especially perturbed by their visit to the woods, but somewhat surprised at how easily and openly Waverly has disobeyed what seemed to be a pretty inflexible ground rule. 

Nothing about this girl is what Nicole expected; not her funny, outgoing personality, not her tolerance of outsiders, not her ease with cursing or breaking the rules. Nicole supposes it is shame on her own self, holding preconceptions of someone just because their uncle was supposedly the guy who  _ fixed _ kids like Nicole. It had made her think that Waverly would be someone uptight, someone privileged, someone to whom Nicole wouldn’t be able to relate at all. 

But so far, the opposite has proven to be true. Waverly certainly has an air of stereotype about her - this horse, for one, and her role as head cheerleader for two - and it is very obvious she cares about school and keeping out of trouble there, but that is hardly the definition of ‘uptight’. She is easy to talk to and there is something in her demeanour that makes Nicole think that the two of them have more in common than she would ever have anticipated. 

As she sits and thinks, she lets Waverly take them on what is mostly a straight route through the woods, until the path they are using ends abruptly, and opens up into a wide, almost circular grassy clearing. 

“Well,” Waverly says, sounding almost nervous, “this is it.” 

Nicole looks around, taking in the wide empty space, and the hush that surrounds it. She can hear a few birds twittering to one another, and the gentle whisper of a small breeze through the trees, but mostly the place is silent. 

There is a momentary pause before she can really say much, as Waverly shows her the proper way to dismount and quickly walks Buttercup to a nearby tree so that she can loosely tie the horse there.

“The likelihood of her running away is slim to none, but it’d be fun trying to explain to my uncle that we were out here so long because we lost the horse.” 

Nicole smiles. “That’d totally endear me to the family.”

“I’d say they’re pretty endeared already,” Waverly replies absently and Nicole feels the words as a jolt of shock.

“What?” she asks, trying to laugh off the comment as a joke. “I’ve been here a week.”

“Well like I said, I’ve never seen anyone else get privileges so fast. I think my uncle’s friend - the judge you had - kind of knew there wasn’t too much you needed from us except support. But my aunt and uncle like you. Wynonna definitely likes you, even if she’ll always pretend she doesn’t. We’ve already established I like you - wait, just bend your knees a tiny bit more. That’s it.”

They are having this conversation as Nicole tries to get down to the ground. She is trying to mimic Waverly’s actions precisely, but given that it is the first and only time she has watched someone dismount a horse, she is coming up a little short. 

“Just swing your right leg over a bit. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll be able to steady you if you need.” 

Waverly reaches out to hold Nicole’s arms as she follows the instructions carefully, but even as Waverly’s soft hands grip gently onto the bare skin of Nicole’s forearms, she has managed to stick her landing pretty well.

“Nice,” Waverly says, sounding genuinely impressed and still loosely holding onto Nicole. “I almost don’t believe you’ve never done this before.” 

“I quite liked it actually,” Nicole admits, only truly realising this for herself when she is back on  _ terra firma _ . “It’s pretty peaceful. Like this place.” 

Waverly nods, finally letting go of Nicole and taking a step back to allow her to take in her surroundings.

Nicole casts her eyes around the clearing again, and senses as much as sees Waverly watching her nervously, as if waiting for her reaction.

“I know it’s not much,” she says shyly, “but I’ve never really brought anyone up here before. Only Chrissy, once or twice.” 

“Not your sister?” Nicole asks, still taking in the scenery around her. Eventually she turns back to face Waverly.

“No. I don’t know why. But I guess I haven’t.” 

“So,” Nicole begins carefully, not wanting to offend Waverly, “why did you bring me? I mean, I’m super grateful. It’s really nice. I just...I don’t know. I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around how quickly your family has accepted me.” 

Waverly studies Nicole’s face carefully for a second before reaching out and taking her hand. She tugs her towards the centre of the clearing.

“Will you sit with me for a bit?” 

Nicole nods mutely, allowing herself to be pulled towards a seemingly arbitrary patch of grass. 

Waverly drops smoothly into a cross-legged position, and Nicole follows, seating herself with her legs kicked out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. 

“Sometimes, things here can get a bit much,” Waverly begins, sounding thoughtful. “I like to come out here when it’s not too cold and just read a book or even be alone and think. I know we shouldn’t stay late, but sometimes I’ll just lay out and look up at the stars when it gets dark. They look amazing out here with no lights around. I always feel safe and anyway, Buttercup would let me know if something was wrong.” 

Nicole nods and, when Waverly doesn’t speak again, she starts to say, “but -”

“But it doesn’t answer your question, I know,” Waverly interjects gently. “I’m gonna get there, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Nicole tells her softly, nudging their shoulders together in a gentler, more serious way this time. “Take as long as you need.” 

After another moment of stillness, Waverly goes on.

“I guess when you mentioned going running, something sort of clicked with me that it might be, like, your version of this? A time when you get to be alone outdoors and just focus on whatever it is you want to focus on. I do that here,  _ without  _ the running part obviously, and I thought that from time to time you might like to as well.” 

“You’d be okay with that?” Nicole asks, a little dumbfounded at the trust she is being given by Waverly. 

“Of course. I want to help,” Waverly says firmly. “I do know that it’s a lot. Being constantly under someone’s watch. That’s um, that’s actually the other reason I wanted to come up here today. After this week, you’ve told me so much about yourself. I know you might not see it that way, but you really have. I wanted to tell you some stuff about me too, but I didn’t want to do it in the house. Wynonna and my aunt...they don’t always like me to talk about it.”

Nicole sends Waverly an encouraging look, but otherwise keeps quiet, sensing that Waverly needs to simply be given space to speak.

“I know my family, this place, it all looks a certain way to outsiders,” Waverly explains, looking bashful. “And yesterday when you mentioned how intolerant some of the kids at school are...I hate how everyone thinks we’re all so backwards and ignorant.”

“I didn’t think - ”

“No, it’s okay. I know you were just commenting on specific people and what they’d said. And you’re right. They’re assholes. I’m just not brave enough to admit it because I know it reflects badly on me for tolerating them. The point is, I know we seem like a stereotype, living out here in the ass end of nowhere with our farm and our horses. But since I was ten years old, we’ve had people coming in and out with all sorts of backgrounds. We’ve literally had child addicts and kids who tried to set their own house on fire. It isn’t always easy.” 

“I can totally imagine that,” Nicole interjects softly, not enough to throw Waverly off course but just as a small affirmation. 

“I know,” Waverly agrees. “You’re like the only one who’s ever made comments about it pretty much ever, but especially by this stage. Some of the kids we had with us  _ hated  _ us. And it didn’t make it easier that, back then, it was just me here and I never had to share a room with them. It was still scary, and upsetting to see how some of them were with my aunt and uncle. You’re different. You’re so, so different Nicole. You’re different from those kids but you’re different from more or less everybody out here too. You don’t care what others think, but it’s not in a type of way where you’re mean or rude. You’re nice, but it’s more than that. I’ve never met anybody like you before.”

Waverly stops speaking and looks to Nicole for a response, almost as if she is silently imploring her to repay this moment of vulnerability with something that might put her mind at ease that she has put her trust in the right person.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’ve never met anyone like you before either,” Nicole admits. “I don’t know many people who could do what you and your family do. I think you’re very brave.”

At this, Waverly tilts her head so that she is staring at the ground, before then shaking her head in disagreement with Nicole’s statement. Thanks to the movement, her loose hair slips out from where she had tucked it behind her ear, drifting like a curtain between them and shrouding her face almost entirely.

Nicole stares carefully at the spot where the side of Waverly’s face would be, before saying,

“You’re also not a stereotype. I’m not going to lie. I kind of thought you guys would be, but you’re really not.” 

“Maybe not the backwards country folk kind,” Waverly says quietly, “but everyone around here thinks differently. They think badly of my family.” 

Nicole is quiet for a moment, trying to reconcile Waverly’s words with the obvious popularity she has amongst her peers. Then, a moment later, she thinks back to some of Stephanie’s more snide comments at Waverly’s expense. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Waverly,” Nicole tells her softly. “And I don’t have to, but I don’t want to pretend I’m understanding you either.”

“Well, you must have wondered,” Waverly says, finally tucking her hair back behind her ear. With her face now visible, Nicole can see that she looks almost painfully sad, and it tugs at her heart with an intensity that blindsides Nicole for a second. 

“Wondered what?” 

“Why me and Wynonna live with our aunt and uncle, and not our mom and dad.” 

“I mean, I’d  _ noticed _ ,” Nicole says, unhappy with her choice of word but at a loss for something better. “But hey, I live with your aunt and uncle instead of my parents too. Of all people, I’m not gonna speculate or ask for an explanation.” 

At Nicole’s comparison between their living situations, Waverly laughs and visibly brightens before remembering herself and growing gloomy again. It is an odd look on her, and not at all natural when compared to her usual sunny demeanour. 

Seeing her sad feels out of place and unpleasant, and Nicole longs to reach out and comfort her. She has no idea, however, where Waverly’s boundaries lie and so resists the urge to offer any physical contact. Instead, she sits quietly and calmly, hoping that this, at least, will drift from her to Waverly and let her know that it is okay if she chooses to speak or not. 

“My parents weren’t um, they weren’t exactly conventional,” Waverly begins, sounding nervous. “Mom and Dad didn’t really get on, which is basically the biggest understatement ever, and Dad wasn’t ever really overstruck on me. I don’t know why and no one’s ever told me. I just always assume I was the accidental third child.”

Waverly pauses, and Nicole takes a moment to process this. It is not  _ what _ Waverly had said that concerns her so much as how she had said it. She uses a tone so deliberate and pointed - saying something without  _ really _ saying it - that Nicole’s brain stalls for a moment on the implication of how Waverly’s father might have behaved. It takes a little longer than it should, therefore, for the word ‘third’ - and its reference to another child besides Waverly and Wynonna - to really register. 

“Oh,” she says, scrabbling around for something substantial to say, but Waverly is faster and continues her story.

“We had an older sister. Her name was Willa. I never really got on with her, if I’m being honest. Dad was quite hard on her, and it made her quite hard in her own way. Especially when it came to me.” Waverly pauses and draws in a breath. "Anyway, when I was six, my mom left us. I do get it, because the things my dad did were unbearable. But she never took us with her, and that still kind of hurts. Dad was a cop, and then Sheriff here, and I guess he got into something because not too long after Mom left, our house got attacked one night by this group of men. They got my Dad and my oldest sister. And um…"

Here, Waverly stops again as something catches in her throat. She clears it, and tries again. 

"I um, I don't really want to get into it, if that's alright, but basically my dad and sister were killed. And it just left me and Wynonna. I was so young it sometimes all feels hazy in my memory, but Wynonna was twelve. She was involved in a way I wasn't, and she really struggled with what happened. It's why she's been back and forth from Purgatory. But that's her life and her story and I don't want to tell it, if that's okay."

"Hey," Nicole says, finding she can no longer resist offering Waverly a tiny bit of physical comfort. She scoots over on the grass, noticing for the first time that Waverly has been pulling up the blades and shredding them as she talks. Nicole angles herself so that she is a little closer to Waverly, just enough that their arms and shoulders graze each other, and after a moment Waverly leans in too. 

"It's so much more than okay," Nicole tells her. "You didn't have to tell me that, but I'm grateful that you did."

"Well, you told me so much yesterday and I wanted to reciprocate. Plus, you thought I didn't understand when you said that people pity you. But I do. I  _ do _ understand, and I'd never do that to you. I know exactly how it feels and it's shitty."

"I'm so sorry Waverly," Nicole says, finding herself whispering. Much like yesterday with Robin, Nicole finds herself feeling guilty. She hasn't experienced anything close to what these two kids have, and yet she is the one being helped and accommodated. "And for the record, having two shitty and disengaged parents doesn't compare to what you and your sister have been through. I really am sorry."

"See," Waverly says, emotion fading as she starts speaking more seriously and thoughtfully, "that's where I think you're wrong. My father never wanted me around, and he wasn't a nice person. I can acknowledge that. And it doesn't mean he deserved what happened to him, but before I'd really done too much growing I got whisked out of that life and put in one with Gus and Curtis. And I mean, you've met them. You know how lucky that makes me."

Nicole ponders this for a moment. She isn’t about to start vying for saddest life story, nor is she about invalidate either of their experiences based on what the other has admitted in the past twenty-four hours. At the same time, however, she cannot help but wonder how different things might have been for either of them if even a few tiny circumstances had changed. 

Certainly, Nicole thinks they would not have met if either of their lives had panned out even slightly differently up to this point in time. 

All the same, Nicole thinks that Waverly has had to carry around the weight of her loss and trauma for over a decade, even if she had found her way into the arms of two guardians who loved her more than anything and supported her through it every step of the way.

“But still, it doesn’t invalidate what you went through,” she says in response to Waverly’s assertion that she is the lucky one while, perhaps, Nicole is not.

“I know,” Waverly admits, before flashing Nicole a self-deprecating smile. “Or rather, I know I should think that. I was, I mean, like...it  _ was _ hard. My dad he uh, he would drink quite a lot at times. He talked a lot about stuff that made everyone around here think he was kind of crazy. Supernatural stuff. It meant that me and my sisters would talk about it too, for a time at least. So we got kind of a name for ourselves at school and all that. Then once my dad and sister died, me and Wynonna got moved here pretty instantly. But for the longest time, no one really wanted to associate with the two traumatised kids who’d watched their dad bleed out in the front garden. Everyone in my grade used to say I lived in a murder house if I ever wanted to arrange sleepovers or a birthday party. The only person who gave me the time of day until recently was Chrissy.”

Here, she pauses, and rearranges herself on the ground, laying out on her back and staring up at the sky, which is struggling valiantly against the season and is a sort of weak, anaemic blue. 

“And the thing is, yes it sucked. Yes, it hurt. But I always had my aunt and uncle, and sometimes I had Wynonna too. I think I did better than anyone sort of imagined I would.”

Nicole finds herself wearing a small, gentle smile. “I’m really glad Waverly. I’m glad you can see your own triumphs.”

That, Nicole thinks, is probably where she herself falls down a little. 

“Thanks,” Waverly says with a smile, although she does not sound particularly convinced by Nicole’s assertion. Instead, she sounds like someone who doesn’t believe what she has been told but simply does not want to argue the point. “I wish you would too.” 

Upon hearing this, Nicole laughs a little to herself in an effort to buy time to consider what this really means. She had thought the same thing about herself two seconds earlier, but hearing it from another person - one she has known for such a short time - is strange. But then again, if she is finding she can read Waverly well, perhaps the feeling is mutual. Nicole is not entirely sure she likes this feeling of being seen; it goes against every precedent that has been set in the past seventeen years. She is used to no one noticing at all. 

Still trying to make light of the discussion a little, she says,

“Well I’m working on convincing everyone around here I’m not a bad person, so I’ll give myself that one.”

As the words settle between them, however, even she can hear that her attempt at a self-effacing joke has missed the mark. 

Waverly’s expression, still a gentle smile from earlier, freezes and then fades into something a little sadder. Nicole wants to kick herself for bringing the mood down. But then quietly, pensively, Waverly says, 

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Nicole. And I never did. I wish you wouldn’t say that.” 

There is so much weight to her voice that it sounds rather like she has given this much careful consideration. It renders Nicole speechless for a moment because, even in spite of their recent discussions, she had never for a moment imagined that Waverly would give anything about her, Nicole, a second thought.

She must be so used to having kids drift in and out of their home by now, many of whom had probably started out with the same deliberate air of detachment as Nicole herself had favoured for all of about four days. She still felt like a bit of a failure for giving in so quickly, but she had simply found that not only did she not really have the energy or inclination to keep any illusions up, but no one in the house had really given her any reason to.

What had surprised her the most, however, was that she had expected Waverly and Wynonna to simply go about their lives without paying too much attention to their latest interloper. She had known that it would never be the kind of life these girls would have been desensitised to, but she had not expected Waverly to  _ want _ to connect.

It is not that Nicole had ever considered Waverly to be a disinterested person, but rather that there is simply so much else in life right now to focus upon. In this past week, Nicole has learned that Waverly is in every AP class her schedule allows, and spends a lot of additional time concentrating on cheerleading that there cannot be much more she can possibly energy left for her to focus on the reprobate kids that her aunt and uncle take in every so often. 

She wonders, for the first time, if - with all that Waverly has said about her father and the kids in school - Waverly has lived just as lonely a life as Nicole, albeit while she has been surrounded by people.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did think I was a bad person.” 

Waverly shifts on the grass, rolling onto her side to better face Nicole. She curls her knees into her tummy and rests her hands between her cheek and the ground.

“But, I don’t get it,” she says, sounding genuinely perplexed as she furrows her brow. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Why would anyone think that about you?  _ Including _ yourself?”

Nicole snorts, unconsciously mirroring Waverly’s position by sprawling out onto her right side. 

“You mean, aside from all the skipped classes that got me put up in front of a judge?”

Waverly shakes her head, still looking utterly bemused. “But you didn’t like, hurt anyone or do anything super out there. You said you had a reason for each class you missed, and I believe you. It’s not like you’ve missed any since you’ve been here. So if that’s really the worst of it, then why would I think you’re a bad person?” 

“I don’t know,” Nicole says, thinking to herself that she is probably projecting onto Waverly somewhat. After all, given her behaviour when she was younger, she had never shaken that preconception off fully at her old school. She had never won her parents’ favour, no matter what she had tried to do. She is used to deflecting this assumption that she is just a lost kid, and she had probably forgotten that Waverly and her family are used to much, much worse behaviour. “I guess I just figured, with the amount of kids your aunt and uncle have probably taken in…”

Waverly shrugs the shoulder she is not laying on. It is an odd gesture, but somehow an endearing one. 

“Even with the ones who were in a much more morally grey space, I could totally understand how everything in life had led them to where they were when we met them. It’s not like my dad didn’t unconsciously show me that so much depends on our childhoods.”

“What about responsibility for ourselves?” Nicole asks, not to be an asshole or devil’s advocate, but because she is genuinely interested in Waverly’s response.

“I mean, obviously. Especially now at our age. But most people don’t get to our age then suddenly flip out without good reason. So either they have that good reason, or it’s been a steady build-up since they were much younger. Maybe since they were too young to take responsibility for themselves.” 

“I guess so,” Nicole murmurs, though they both know full-well that she agrees entirely.

With their faces separated by a few inches of grass, Waverly flashes Nicole a cheeky smile and just like that the sad, strange energy that had been threatening to settle over them dissipates.

“You know, at some point soon you’re just going to have to accept that we all really do like you.” 

Without saying anything more on the subject, Nicole thinks to herself that accepting it isn’t the problem, it is more that she does not really know what to  _ do _ with that kind of information.

After all, she has never really been in this position before. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The girls return back to the house a little while later, after laying around and letting their conversation devolve into inconsequential but very pleasant small talk. 

After they have been in the clearing for about an hour, Waverly starts to shiver and Nicole suggests they leave, sensing that Waverly might choose to suffer the fall chill in silence for a while longer if she is not prompted to leave. 

Nicole feels much more settled on the journey back, both in the context of their mode of transport, and on a more internal level. She had known there was a reason that she and Waverly seemed able to understand each other, and with Waverly’s story things seem to make a little more sense in Nicole’s mind. 

More than that, Waverly’s decision to offer Nicole her own place of calm and solitude seems to bolster them both. Nicole sees the gesture with the significance she is sure it carries for Waverly, and starts to believe that maybe Waverly is not humouring her with her time and attention. Similarly, the process of telling Nicole her story, and having Nicole accept it with no judgement whatsoever, seems to hearten Waverly too. 

They spend the rest of their Saturday together, sat on the couch in the living room under the guise of watching movies. However, more often than not, they are talking. 

Halfway through the afternoon Gus brings them enormous mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of what appears to be homemade cupcakes. 

She smiles as Waverly and Nicole break off their conversation to acknowledge her and thank her for the treats. 

“I think that’s the longest I’ve heard you girls stop talking between yourselves all day,” Gus comments, but there is no malice or criticism behind her words. “I’m surprised you can even understand each other, I swear you two talk far too fast for me to follow.” 

“We’re just talking normally,” Waverly protests good-naturedly, picking up her hot chocolate and blowing to cool it down. 

“For  _ you _ perhaps,” Gus replies with a knowing look at Nicole, before directing her next comment away from her niece entirely. “She’s always tried to talk as fast her brain can run, but she forgets she’s a lot smarter than the rest of us here. I’m glad someone can keep up.” 

Waverly pretends to be mildly put out by her aunt's criticism, before Gus eventually leaves the room and lets the girls resume their discussions. 

They spend the rest of their day in much the same way, and Nicole finds herself learning about the farm, and about Waverly's aunt and uncle, and how they came to run their program and take in kids. She learns that Gus is the blood relative of Waverly and Wynonna through their mother, Michelle. She learns that the Earp family have a penchant for the initial 'W' when Waverly mentions in passing that their father's name was Ward. Waverly tells Nicole how Wynonna has been travelling a few times in Europe and confirms Nicole's mental math by stating that her sister is twenty-four years old. 

In fact, the only person Nicole does not learn any more about that day is Waverly herself. After their discussions during the past two days, it would be unfair to say that Waverly is completely guarded about herself, but it is obvious that she is careful about how and when she reveals certain information. Nicole does not forget her earlier comment that Wynonna and Gus do not like her to tell others about the family’s past. So, now they are back in the house, Waverly instead tells Nicole a few childhood or Middle School stories - things that build connections but hardly give away too much on a personal level - but little more.

It would be unfair for Nicole to be critical of this behaviour, however, because she hardly talks about herself either. She meets Waverly's stories with corresponding ones of her own, and does talk a little about soccer and other sports she likes. She can tell this goes well over Waverly's head, but appreciates how carefully the other girl listens nonetheless. Partly, Nicole is slow to offer information because she is out of practice and unaccustomed to anyone but Dolls or, in the past, Shae knowing her on anything more than a superficial level. Mostly, however, she is quiet because Waverly proves that she can  _ talk _ . 

It is an endearing quality, because it is obvious that she is only behaving in such a way because she is increasingly comfortable in Nicole's company. She never bulldozes over anything that Nicole has to say, nor is she domineering in conversation, she simply lights up and talks at length about the stuff she likes, and she speaks almost as much in facial expressions and hand gestures as she does in words. 

It is nice, Nicole realises quickly, being around Waverly when she is like this. Nicole has always liked it when people can get passionate about stuff - even if it's something she herself couldn't give two shits about. She just likes the way that Waverly's face lights up and her eyes dance when she speaks about something as everyday as her latest History project. 

In fact, by the end of the day - when the dark has come in and the house has grown cold, prompting Waverly to collect a pretty, crocheted blanket to drape over herself - Nicole finds that she has not felt once like she is in somebody's house for a correctional program. She feels like any normal teenager probably feels when visiting a friend's house and just kicking back to enjoy a lazy afternoon. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


It is not until the next day that Nicole sees any sign of Curtis’ next intervention with her, and Nicole remembers why she is really in Purgatory. 

The family are getting ready to head out onto the farm, when Curtis stops them and says,

“Nicole, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to work with me this morning.” 

Nicole pauses and, absurdly, her first thought is that Gus and Curtis know about her trip out of bounds with Waverly yesterday. 

"There's nothing wrong," he adds hastily upon seeing the look on her face. "I just want you to learn a couple more jobs around here."

Nicole nods, happy to switch things up but aware she has no choice either way. 

"Sure, okay."

With that, she follows Curtis out the back door, past the stable and the little coop of chickens behind it. They traipse on towards a small allotment and a large greenhouse, before Curtis announces that they have arrived at their workstation for the morning. 

"You may or may not be pleased to hear that we're working in the greenhouse this morning," Curtis tells her, referencing the same chill in the air that has been nipping at their heels for most of the week. "How do you find the cold?" 

"I'm okay, I deal with it alright." 

"Good, you're going to need that here."

Nicole chuckles to herself. "How does Waverly get by out here?" 

Already, the girl has a nest of blankets on her bed, and is wrapping up far warmer than anyone else to go outside and work. 

At Nicole's comment - although it was intended as much as a rhetorical question as anything else - Curtis laughs. 

"She suffers the cold and we all suffer with her," he replies, without an ounce of discontent in his tone. "So consider yourself warned."

"Noted," Nicole says with a grin as Curtis shows her into the greenhouse. 

It is huge and more than a little unkempt on the inside. There are a couple of stone statues amongst the rows of tables and planters. One that catches her eye is that of an angel; its surface is worn with age, and a few almost indiscernible patches of moss and lichen creep upwards from its base. 

Nicole wrinkles her nose. The statues kind of give her the creeps. 

Unaware of this, Curtis directs her to a particular table covered with an array of terracotta pots. Their inhabitants have started to grow upwards and creep onto a rickety old trellis that has presumably only been installed to give the plants something to hang onto. 

"My sweet peas," Curtis says, looking a little proud. "They like the cool weather and hate the heat, but we've not long moved them as it'll be too cold outdoors soon. Now, it's an easy job, but not the most exciting one I'm afraid."

Nicole shrugs. "That's fine."

Curtis sets her to work looking after the plants. She is to collect any pea pods into one bowl, and cut some of the more mature flowers off and collect them into bundles. Apparently, some will be displayed by Gus in the house and others will be sold for, as Curtis terms it, 'a bit of pocket money'. 

"It won't be enough to get us in the big leagues," he jokes, "but it funds little family treats here and there. Plus, it's better than them flowering and dying off again on the plant itself."

At the same time, he heads off to tend to some tomato plants, which apparently have also recently been moved inside for the winter. 

They work in silence for about ten minutes before Curtis speaks again. 

"Now, I know you'll already be aware that I've asked you to work with me today so we can talk," he begins, "but it really is a way to get you on some different tasks too. All the same, I wanted to catch up with you now that you've done a week here with us."

"Okay…" Nicole responds when Curtis pauses, stretching out the word as she waits, unsure of what he really wants her to tell him.

"I was hoping we might start with you telling me how you're finding it here. How are you settling in around the house?" he prompts when Nicole draws a blank. 

"Oh," Nicole says, "yeah, fine thanks."

In truth, the question catches her off guard and she has no idea what to say. It is one thing telling Waverly how she feels, but is somehow another entirely to tell Curtis. This is his home after all - and his property and his program. She is not about to offend him or overstep the mark while things are relatively pain free for her. 

"Nicole," Curtis says patiently, "you've been moved over two thousand miles to a place that, by your own admission, you don't want to be. These things are never just 'fine'. Not in week one."

This puzzles Nicole for a moment, after two people telling her that she did not seem to be a typical McCready kid in her first week of the program. 

"I didn't think I was following the pattern of the other kids."

"You're certainly not. But you're also human. You've been moved from your home. You're not going to offend me so please, tell me how it really is for you so far."

Nicole pauses and tries to get her words in order. 

“Yeah, I mean - your house is lovely, your family is really welcoming. It’s a great area, really peaceful, and I know you’re all telling me to make myself at home, and I really appreciate that. But I still feel like a guest in someone else’s house. I don’t often feel totally relaxed because although I’m getting on with everyone - at least, I feel like I am - I’m still kind of an outsider. I’ve also spent so long on my own that being around people all the time is weird. I still feel like I just want more peace and quiet, or time on my own. Even though the running will help. It helped yesterday, and it helped again today. So I’m grateful for that.” 

Curtis nods, looking pensieve. “Everything you’re telling me is completely natural. We know that, when we tell you to relax here, it’s easier said than done. It’s not an overnight process. Right now two of my biggest joys are that you already seem to be eating better and looking better slept. You also seem to be getting on very well with Waverly, better than any of the other kids we’ve taken in.” 

“I think we’re getting on, yeah. That’s how I feel. Obviously you’d have to ask her how she feels about it - ”

“I have,” Curtis interjects softly, and this fact does not surprise Nicole in the slightest. “She says the same, and knowing her and reading between her lines, she’s already very taken with you. I’m happy to see that, and rather selfishly I’m happy on both of your behalfs. I know you’re here so we can assist you, but my nieces have had a hard life too. Because yes, I know Waverly has told you a little of their past. She’s never opened up to any of our other guests before, or at least not that she’s told me. I know you probably can’t see it yet, but I think this environment is going to benefit you a lot Nicole, and I think having you here will be good for my kids too.” 

Nicole pulls an appraising expression. “I guess so.” 

She is not sure how to say that, after a week here, she is starting to think that it does not actually particularly matter where she is stationed while she tries to get through school and win herself a place on a college course that will eventually put her in the police Academy. She got by at home, and she is proving to herself that she can get by here. 

That she has burgeoning friendships with both Waverly and Robin on the horizon is not something Nicole wants to take for granted just yet. She does not feel that anything is a given in her life anymore. 

Curtis takes Nicole’s response as a cue to move on to the next part of his obviously pre-planned conversation.

“My other happiness is how well you’ve taken going to a new school in your stride. I get that this is quite a normal operating procedure for you,” he states, but there is a question in his voice that suggests he is seeking Nicole’s confirmation.

“What is?”

“Taking things in your stride.” 

Nicole shrugs. For the whole duration of the conversation, she has kept her attention fixed on the plants and flowers in front of her, and she continues working as the discussion progresses. 

“I suppose so. I’ve never thought of it like that.” 

“How have you thought of it?”

“I’m just getting on with things. I don’t have any other choice, do I? Isn’t that how everyone does it?” 

“Does what?”

“Life? I guess?” Nicole answers. 

“Some people ask for help,” Curtis replies, and although from some this might be sarcasm, he manages to speak in a way that makes it clear that his response is no more than a simple statement of fact. “Not everyone sees resolutely putting one foot in front of the other as their way of ‘just getting on with things’. I think it’s really quite remarkable, how resilient you are.” 

“Oh,” Nicole says, completely blindsided by the compliment, both because she was genuinely not expecting this to be the tone of the conversation, and because she has never thought of herself as resilient before. As an afterthought, she adds, “thank you.” 

“Of course. I’d also be interested to hear how you’re finding school.” 

“School’s fine,” Nicole tells him before clarifying, “which I mean honestly this time. I’m in the same classes - which I’m happy about - and I’m doing what I did at my old school. Minus the part where I couldn’t get to every class, obviously.” 

“And what is it that you did at your old school?”

“Same as what I said before I guess. Got my head down, just kind of passed by under the radar. Got my grades and that was that. At least in more recent years.” 

“I’m aware that you had a more difficult spell at school,’ Curtis says, carefully keeping his tone non-confrontational and free of any judgement. “Would you mind telling me about that?” 

“There’s nothing to tell,” Nicole says honestly. “I wanted my parents to realise I wasn’t happy. It didn’t work. I gave it up.” 

“Yes, about your parents,” Curtis replies, picking up on a new subject and making Nicole regret mentioning her family. This is the last thing she wants to talk about. “Have you heard from them since you’ve been here?” 

For the first time, Nicole notices her parents’ lack of contact. 

Her heart sinks. Apparently her family does still have some control over her feelings, because thinking about it, that is an objectively shitty thing to realise. She has been sent to live with total strangers and her parents haven’t even sent her a text. Worse still, she hadn’t even realised until now.

“No.” Nicole cannot help the note of bitterness that shows in her voice. “Guess I’m still not worth bothering about.” 

“That’s not true Nicole.”

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “well unfortunately you’ve got nearly eighteen years of reinforcement of the precise  _ opposite _ point against you.” 

“I understand that. That’s one thing we’re hoping our family will help with. Don’t forget, you’re here because multiple people saw that you  _ are _ worthy. You’ve already said yourself that you’re not here in the same capacity as a lot of our other guests. We don’t really have a lot of - or, honestly,  _ any _ \- behaviour we currently feel we need to work on with you. It’s quite an odd situation for us too in that sense. Instead, I think it’s best that we’re here to support you as we do our nieces, and to perhaps consider that any correctional processes need to be on some of your ingrained patterns of thought.” 

Nicole feels a prickle of defensiveness drift down her spine. She doesn’t  _ want _ to have other people work on her, like she is some pet project. “What is that supposed to mean?”   


“I’m a little concerned about what I think is an unconscious tendency to disregard yourself and your needs. As well as your insistence that you are, somehow, a bad person, rather than someone who is persistently doing their best against all odds. I’d like to pick up on both of those things with you when we meet to talk.” 

Immediately, Nicole feels herself take a step back from the conversation. She is not resentful of Curtis - she can see that he is trying to help - but really, he still doesn’t know the first thing about her. 

“I don’t do that. Either of those things. I don’t need to work on it.” 

“Okay,” Curtis says evenly. “I have to disagree with you there, but I think we should put that part of this discussion to bed for now. I don’t want you to feel like I’m deliberately bringing things up to upset or antagonise you. I want to talk when you’re ready to. So, going back to what we were saying about your parents, do you think you’d like to talk to them soon? Perhaps later today.” 

At this Nicole cannot help but snort incredulously. “ _ No _ . What’s the point of that?! They’re not gonna answer my calls.” 

Curtis seems genuinely shocked by Nicole’s knee-jerk reaction to any mention of speaking with her parents. 

“I’m sure they’d like to hear from you,” he suggests gently. 

“I highly doubt that. They didn’t much like hearing from me when we lived in the same house, albeit they weren’t around often. They’re not going to want to hear from me now that they’re not obligated to.” 

Nicole can see that Curtis is just trying to be encouraging, but it was just serving to remind Nicole how little her parents cared. Until now, she had successfully avoided thinking about it at all. 

“I know the precedent they’ve set for you, but you’re so far away - ”

“I’m  _ always _ far away, they fuck off on all their trips around the country or even elsewhere. This is standard procedure for them.” 

Choosing to ignore Nicole’s colourful choice of language, Curtis presses the point. 

“This might be different. They’d just been told they had no choice but to send their daughter away. Did they really not show any change in their behaviour after finding out what would happen?” 

Nicole considers this for a moment. It is tempting to continue being dismissive but, right now, she is acting in this way because it is genuinely how she perceives things to be. She would be lying if she said her mom hadn’t shown a couple of signs that the reality of her failures had hit home. 

“It seemed to hit mom at the airport,” Nicole admits. “But it wasn’t enough for her to get real with me; for her to say sorry or try and get me back.” 

“This is a genuine question and not me trying to defend your mother,” Curtis says by way of advance explanation. “Do you think a part of her was hoping we could give you something better, something more than she had given?” 

Nicole considers this question. “So what, that’s why she never tried to change the ruling? Never fought for me?”

“That’s what I’m asking, yes.” 

Nicole takes another moment to think this possibility over. She supposes, deep down, that it might have been her mom trying to help her, but something about the notion just doesn’t sit right. 

“I’d never thought of it like that. But even trying to see both sides, I’m not totally convinced. She had her chances to at least say that to me, and instead she just said nothing and let me walk onto a plane all alone. And now she hasn’t even texted. That’s the part that tells me she doesn’t care.” 

“You know your parents better than me,” Curtis tells her fairly, “and I’m not about to start defending behaviour I don’t perhaps think is especially  _ defensible _ .” 

Nicole cannot help but give out a derisive laugh, and it halts Curtis’ speech for a moment. 

“That’s easily the most diplomatic way you could say that they were shitty, deadbeat parents.”

“However you want to describe it, I’m okay with that,” Curtis says, “although I could live without the cursing. That being said, I don’t want you to continue thinking that it reflects in any way on you. This has all been their decision. That you have been caught up in it is remarkably unfair.”

“It’s what it is. I’ve always thought I’d cure it by just being a better kid, until that didn’t work so I tried the opposite. Then that didn’t work either. So I kind of worked out I’d never be enough, which sucks. And now, since they’re not even checking in on me, it sort of makes me wonder if there’s gonna be anything left for me to go back to next year.” 

Of course, she thinks, there is Dolls and there might be soccer if there’s still a place on the team for her. That’s as good an excuse as any to apply to a college back in Ontario. But it also wasn’t that much to show for someone nearly at her eighteenth birthday. 

“I know it must feel that way,” Curtis says, voice a little too sympathetic for Nicole’s liking.

She is reminded of her conversation with Waverly at the bar on Friday night, hearing the echoes of her insistence that caring does not always have to equal pity. Still, she is not a fan of hearing that familiar note of  _ something _ in Curtis’ voice. She does not say anything, however, and he goes on. 

“But what I can say is that after years of working with the kids who stay here, as well as watching my nieces grow up, I’ve learnt that most parents who relinquish their kids to a program that claims to help do so because they care.”

“What even the ones that put their kids in bogus programs or camps that harm them?” Nicole challenges, before softening and adding, “not that I’m saying yours is like that.” 

“No, of course not. But when someone offers to help your child in a way you yourself cannot, saying goodbye to them for a while is hardship you accept if it means a better life for your son or daughter.” 

Nicole shakes her head to herself. “That doesn’t sound like my parents at all. What  _ I’ve _ learnt over the years is that most people don’t want to accept that some folks really just don’t care. Like, they always want to have this deeper meaning for why my parents are like this, because it’s easier than accepting that there  _ is _ nothing deep about it.” 

Nicole pauses and cuts a few more flowers from their stems. Then, when Curtis simply waits for her to talk more, she adds,

“Plus, if we like, take what you’ve been saying for a second - that I haven’t done anything bad to get myself sent here, I just haven’t been perfectly good either - then I think that kind of just contextualises what I’ve been doing. I mean, I’ve just kind of given in; I’ve focussed so much on stumbling through my week here to have been any trouble to anyone - not that I was aiming to cause trouble, obviously. And given that you all seem to think I don’t have any serious issues that you need to work on, it follows that the only reason I’m  _ actually _ here is because I needed new adults to watch over me for a while. This is basically a court-ordered fostering type situation, which has literally come about because my parents  _ don’t _ care, and never will. I mean, if we’re really being honest right now, I wouldn’t be here at all if the judge had seen any hope or sign of my parents coming round.”

Nicole shuts her mouth abruptly, aware that she has said far too much. She had never intended to get this involved in the psychology element of this program. She has studied enough already to know that she is giving pretty much anyone who wants to fix her too much material to work with. The problem, however, is that both Waverly and Curtis have wanted to  _ really _ listen to her. It has been a while since anyone but Dolls has done that, and in many ways it is actually a lot easier to tell a relative stranger these things. There is far less emotional jeopardy. 

“You know, I think you’ve been more open with me in one conversation than many of guests ever are with me. The fact that you’re willing to give me and my family your respect tells me that you’re a good, kind person, Nicole. And your willingness to stand out in this greenhouse in the cold, work on my plants, and talk with me is yet another thing that shows me that you’re going to really thrive out here with us.”

Nicole swallows around a lump that builds suddenly and unexpectedly in her throat. It was an unexpectedly emotional experience, hearing someone say that they thought she was a good person. 

She had spent so long telling herself that good people didn’t feel such an emotional void from two people who were supposed to love them. After her somewhat short-lived attempt at rebellion, plenty of people from her old school didn’t seem to think she was too great either. 

But Curtis already seemed to think she was doing just fine.

It shouldn’t mean all that much because really, he doesn’t even know the first thing about her yet, but somehow it seems to tug at her heart. 

“I don’t know how you can know that,” she tells Curtis. “That I’m gonna thrive here, or anywhere else for that matter.” 

“Nicole, I can see it already with my own two eyes. You’re getting good grades, and you’re working hard here despite being in a totally new environment. So far, your biggest demand has been about getting  _ exercise _ , and you’re making friends with my kids, who are generally even better judges of character than I am. I know you might not see it, or might not let yourself see it, but you’re doing well.”

Sensing tears start to prick at her eyes and feeling utterly mortified at the idea of crying at all whilst she is out here, Nicole tries for a weak little laugh. 

“I guess I just don’t have the energy for another rebellious phase, or to really give a shit about anything. Guess I totally blew that step and moved straight over to spineless compliance, huh?” 

She tries to pitch her words as a joke, but they both know that this is truly how she views her current situation, even if she is able to make light of it. 

“I have to say, I don’t agree with a single thing you’ve just said to me. You’re nowhere near as close to the mark as you were before. Because you were right to say that, in effect, you’re here because you need new guardians rather than any corrective action. But what’s so great about you coming here is that we get to take a lot of weight off your shoulders for the next few months. While you’re here, you’re always going to have someone around who cares about you, whether that be me, my wife, or my kids. You don’t have to worry about any of the things that were put on your shoulders so unfairly back at home. And before you ask, yes, I can make that promise to you because it’s one I’ve delivered on before.” 

“And what happens when I end up disappointing you like I disappoint my  _ actual _ parents? Because that’s still all I can really think about.” 

“That won’t happen,” Curtis says with so much conviction it shocks her. “So rather than thinking like that, I’d like you to stop pretending that your efforts to work with us as a sign that you’re weak, or that you’re giving in - I know you’re far too astute to really believe that. It’s time to see them for what they really are.” 

“Which is?”

“You, working hard to take your life in the direction you truly want. None of us are here to change who you are. We want to give you the support to make of yourself what you wish. Plus, you’re smart enough to know that if you resist any changes you see in yourself here, no one really wins - least of all you.” 

Nicole thinks this over for a moment before finally turning to face Curtis. She finds him watching her with an inscrutable expression on his face. 

She is hit with the odd thought that she does not want to let this man - with his kind, quiet demeanour - down, not after he has taken her in like this.

For the first time, she thinks she truly understands the person Waverly is. If Nicole were her, she would want to please Curtis and Gus too. She knows that losing some of the defence mechanisms that have been essential to her survival will be hard, and she is not naive enough to know that she can erase all the bad stuff overnight, but she can certainly make the effort. 

“Okay,” she says resolutely. “I’ll try.” 

Curtis smiles. “That’s all we want you to do, Nicole.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as ever if you've made it this far. I'm really grateful to everyone who's leaving me feedback. It really does help so much when I'm writing. 
> 
> Until next week, take care.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update before Christmas!
> 
> CW in this chapter for mentions of injury!

When they have finished their work in the greenhouse, Nicole and Curtis head back inside together, the former carrying a bunch of sweet pea flowers in one hand, and a bowl of pea pods in the other. 

Gus takes both from her when she steps into the kitchen, dropping the flowers into a waiting vase. Then she whisks the bowl away and Nicole cannot help but say,

“I thought those things were poisonous?” 

Gus looks mildly surprised at her knowledge, but Nicole’s parents had at least left her unsupervised in the woods with some basic knowledge on how  _ not _ to mortally injure or poison herself. 

“In large doses, yes. We use a few as feed and mostly keep the rest as compost.” 

Nicole nods to indicate her understanding, and this seems to herald the end of the conversation. She tries to work out if Waverly and Wynonna are back in the house. She hovers in the kitchen for a moment as Curtis excuses himself, unsure of what she should do. She rarely finds herself without one of the sisters around, and she is used now to following their leads. 

She waits a moment, staring at Gus’ back as the older woman works at one of the countertops, before softly clearing her throat. 

“Is there anything else I should be doing?” 

“Hm?” Gus asks, absent minded as she arranges the flowers. She throws a glance over her shoulder and spots Nicole standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. She throws one hand out in a wide gesture. “Oh, no, no. Have a seat honey, the others won’t be long in finishing.” 

Feeling somewhat awkward - she has pretty much never been alone with Gus before this weekend - Nicole takes up her seat at the kitchen table. 

For a while, neither of them speaks. Gus, as ever, seems to be baking something and Nicole wonders whether she truly enjoys doing so much work in the kitchen. Certainly, the other woman seems to take pride in whatever she does for the family, and that in itself seems to answer Nicole’s unspoken question. 

Gus hums tunelessly to herself while she works, making Nicole tea as if on autopilot. 

She squeezes gently at Nicole’s shoulder as she puts the mug on the table, before going back to rolling out some pastry. 

Nicole thanks Gus for the tea, and blows on it until she can take a tentative sip. 

The oven is warming and the room is a perfectly toasty temperature, right as the sky seems to darken and a squally wind starts up. Nicole thinks she could not feel more cosy if she tried.

Gus keeps on humming, and it only adds to the peaceful, homey ambiance. Nicole lets it all wash over her and, after a moment, feels an unexpected and inexplicable lump catch in the back of her throat. 

She isn’t quite sure where the sudden flash of emotion comes from, or why it is so strong, and at first she tries to swallow it down and dismiss it entirely. 

When it resists her efforts, demanding resolutely to be felt and understood, she sets her jaw and does her best not to be overpowered by it. She decides, after some moments of silent thought, that she wants to cry at all the changes that have rocked the ground beneath her over the past few weeks, and she wants to cry at the way she has buried her feelings and a huge part of her identity to get herself through it all. 

She wants to cry at the realisation that she has been lonely, and it has taken observing another family’s bonds up close for her to see how infrequently she has really been anything but alone and self-reliant. She wants to cry because this quiet, insignificant moment with someone else’s aunt is more familial domesticity than she has ever known in the rest of her life, and because her parents never could - nor wanted to - give this to her. 

Being in the McCready’s kitchen while Gus works feels comforting and it feels safe, and it is only as she realises this that Nicole also perceives that she has never, ever felt this way before. 

What she thinks is feeling is an acute sense of loss over something she had only just noticed was missing. She is feeling seventeen years of it all at once and it is like a tidal wave. 

This is not the kind of wave, however, that can be ridden out, but rather the one that overpowers the barrier of the shoreline and comes crashing down on dry land.

Quickly, she gets up from her chair, her movements jerky and erratic enough that they attract Gus’ attention.

She keeps her face angled away so that Gus cannot see the emotion written there and mumbles,

“Sorry, just going to the bathroom.” 

If Gus thinks anything of the behaviour she does not call after Nicole, who manages to lock herself in the bathroom and sit herself down on the floor, head in her hands, before the emotion really breaks over her. 

She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and improbably it has the effect of stemming the worst of her tears. Her palms still come away wet a moment or two later as she sees stars and dark patterns for a moment, but it is not the tumultuous outpouring of grief it might have been. 

She sits a moment or two longer, her legs crossed beneath her on the pristine, fluffy rug and her back against the bathtub. 

She is not used to letting herself cry, or even come half so close as she had, and she finds herself making excuses for it as she tries to calm down.

It was just, she thinks, all a bit much. 

To go from such an open, raw conversation with Curtis to the quiet, calm moment of reflection with Gus in the kitchen was simply too much. It was a big juxtaposition one after the other. She would not normally get so emotional, she tells herself firmly. 

After another few moments, however, she decides it is no bad thing and it is okay to simply shrug it off.

She stands up and makes a show of flushing the toilet and washing her hands, knowing firsthand that you can hear the running water all over the old farmhouse. 

She is still a little frenetic and out of sorts when she makes to leave, rushing as she is to get back downstairs without arousing any suspicions. She might have been able to rationalise and think her way around her emotions but one well-meaning expression of concern from Gus might just finish her off entirely. 

She opens the door rather quickly and manages to more or less walk straight into Waverly as she plods up the stairs and towards her bedroom.

“Oh,” Waverly says in a little exclamation of surprise, and the two girls get themselves into a tangle as they try to sidestep one another and manage to both move in the same direction. 

“Sorry,” Nicole says quietly, right as Waverly tries to apologise too.

“No, sorry I’m a bit - ” she breaks off at the moment that she seems to take in Nicole properly, and Nicole supposes her eyes must still be a little bit red. Waverly’s brow furrows in concern and ever so gently, she asks, “are you okay?” 

This all but confirms Nicole’s suspicion that any attempt to show concern or sympathy would be her downfall, and just like that the emotion is back. 

“Yeah,” she says, voice coming out scratchy and faint. She clears her throat. “Yeah, fine. Sorry, I’ll get out your way.” 

She goes to pass around Waverly and head back to the kitchen when the other girl stills her with a gentle hand on her arm. It is so faint, so observant of Nicole’s personal space, that the touch barely lands, but still Nicole halts on instinct.

“Did you work with my uncle this morning?” she asks carefully.

“Yeah. In the greenhouse.”

“Did you guys get to talk?”

Nicole understands immediately that this is Waverly’s subtle way of checking in and she appreciates it.

“Yeah, for a bit.” 

“And you’re sure you’re okay?” Waverly asks again, not pushy or interfering but just her way of showing she understands why Nicole is upset, and is offering her another chance to talk. 

Nicole likes Waverly a lot, she trusts her already in fact, but she is not sure she is at the stage of being willing to cry in front of her yet. 

“I am now, yeah. Just needed a sec.” 

Waverly smiles, satisfied by the conviction in Nicole’s voice. 

“Do you um,” Waverly starts, suddenly and inexplicably sounding much shier. “Do you need a hug? I don’t know if that’s like a boundary thing or whatever. But I kind of think hugs always help.” 

For a moment, Nicole thinks to politely refuse and then immediately cannot understand why she would do so. 

She is already smiling gently to herself at the endearing way that Waverly seems to match nervousness with more and more words, filling any potential for silence with something more. 

“You’re right,” Nicole says as her smile grows and her sadness seems to suddenly ebb further away. “They do always help.” 

She is not expecting Waverly to move quite so fast, but it is almost automatic, the way that Waverly steps forward and opens her arms for a hug. 

She has already made it abundantly clear to Nicole that she runs cold, but it would be impossible to tell in that moment, as Nicole wraps herself into the warmth of the embrace. 

Waverly gives good hugs; she commits to them, and Nicole finds she is not surprised by this fact. There is no uneasy angling of bodies so that only their shoulders bump, no sense that the contact should be over as quickly as it began. 

Instead, Waverly holds on with all her might, as though she has needed this moment just as much as Nicole. Her arms are tight - but not too tight - around Nicole’s neck and she keeps their bodies resting warm and solid and comforting against each other.

She is the perfect height for a hug too, small enough that she can rest her head near Nicole’s collar, and Nicole can drop her chin to Waverly’s crown. 

It might be one of the nicest embraces Nicole has ever felt. 

It is not awkward, though Nicole had worried it could have been. Instead it is impossibly, indescribably warm and soothing. 

They stand like that for longer than they reasonably need to, and the first hint of embarrassment only bleeds through when they finally break away. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll let you get changed,” Nicole says in lieu of anything better. 

“Sure, I’ll be down in a sec.” 

Waverly has opened her bedroom door, and Nicole is starting on the way downstairs when she thinks to turn around. 

“Waverly?”

“Mm?” Waverly hums, pausing and looking back at Nicole. 

“Thanks.” 

Waverly smiles. “Thank you too.”

They both know they are expressing gratitude for more than just one simple hug, but rather for the act of seeing the other, and allowing themselves to be seen. 

Nicole heads back to the kitchen, feeling genuinely much better than before, and when Gus studies her face carefully - and nowhere near as subtly as she thinks - she must also be satisfied that Nicole is alright. 

Waverly is as good as her word and calls downstairs ten minutes later, dressed in a fresh, clean set of leggings, a new t-shirt, and a warm grey fleece. She looks all set for a day of rest and relaxation and therefore surprises Nicole when she sits down at the table, turns to Gus and says boldly,

“Can I have Wynonna’s truck for the afternoon?” 

Gus pauses as she carefully lays her pastry into the bottom of a ceramic pie dish.

“What for?” 

“To go out,” Waverly says, teasing her aunt. 

Nicole can picture Gus’ responding look of mock annoyance.

“Very insightful. Where are you going? Who are you meeting?”

“Meeting? No one,” Waverly says brightly before turning to Nicole. “Where do you want to go?” 

“Oh,” Nicole says, caught completely off guard. “I wouldn’t even know what the options are,” she says, before catching the look on Gus’ face as she turns to look at the girls. “Or if I even have any.” 

“Waverly,” Gus begins, a note of caution in her voice.

“Gus, come on,” Waverly protests. “What’s going to happen? Nicole’s been here over a week - ”

“Barely,” Gus interjects, but her tone is not harsh, just hesitant. 

“But still. She’s been here over a week and has barely been anywhere but home or school.”

“You two were at Shorty’s on Friday.”

“I know. But it’s not a lot when you’re used to the city. I just want to go to the diner or to town or something. And it’s not like we’ll have Wynonna with us to lead us astray,” Waverly says, biting her lip against another smile. 

“Hey!” comes Wynonna’s bark of a protest from the living room. “I resent that!” 

“Good! That was my intention, and you’re still not invited!” Waverly yells back - both of them still stereotypical siblings to the core. 

“Like I’d want in with you two losers anyway!” Wynonna shouts before appearing in the kitchen doorway. She points an accusatory finger at Nicole. “You showed so much promise, but you’re letting her corrupt you.” 

Nicole laughs. “Right? How dare she be nice to me?” 

“ _ I’m  _ nice,” Wynonna counters, sounding indignant.

“Debatable,” Nicole replies, somehow managing to say this right at the same time that Waverly chooses the exact same comeback.

They speak precisely in unison and both burst out laughing at the look on Wynonna’s face.

“See?!” Wynonna exclaims before sending a glare at Waverly. “You? Loser.” She turns to Nicole. “You? Corrupted.” 

With those conclusions drawn, she makes a point of retreating back to the living room whilst looking as put out as possible just as Curtis appears in the kitchen.

He takes in the scene before him - Wynonna making a show of annoyance, Waverly and Nicole still laughing, and Gus trying and failing to look unimpressed - with a bemused smile, before stepping into the kitchen and collecting a cup from the draining board. 

He makes himself a coffee as things around him settle down. 

Nicole wonders if Waverly will continue her mission to get them both to leave the house today, but Gus intervenes.

“What do you think love,” she says, “Waverly wants to drive out with Nicole to town today.” 

Curtis heaps a couple of spoonfuls of coffee into the mug, evidently thinking.

When he says nothing, Waverly adds, “or just the diner. I just thought it’d be nice for us to get out for a bit.” 

“We never normally do this so soon, you understand,” Curtis says gently, and Nicole tries not to feel put out after all that he had said earlier. Surely they know she is not about to do anything completely stupid or reckless, especially not anything that will get Waverly into trouble. Diner milkshakes are probably not considered a mark of teenage rebellion anywhere, even out here in Purgatory. 

“I  _ know _ ,” Waverly says, but wisely elects to leave the rest of her statement as an implication.  _ But Nicole is clearly different  _ probably wouldn’t hit the right notes with her aunt and uncle. 

Curtis, however, must be thinking along the same lines as both Waverly and Nicole. 

“The diner this time, okay?” he says, watching for Waverly’s reaction.

She remains credibly impassive as she shrugs. “Sure, that’s fine. It wasn’t meant to be a big thing, I didn’t think you’d care.” 

“This is still an official arrangement, and we have obligations to fulfil. Ones we might not always make you aware of,” Curtis points out, and it is the sternest tone Nicole has ever heard him use around anyone, but especially around Waverly. 

“ _ Okay _ I got it,” Waverly says in a frustrated tone that is not at all her usual countenance. 

“It really doesn’t matter,” Nicole says quickly, feeling inexplicably at fault for the tension and completely unbothered about being told she has to spend another day under supervision and house arrest. She is admittedly a little dumbfounded at being told almost three times in as many days that no one is particularly worried about her behaviour, then having this contradicted by their actions.

It feels especially as though they do not trust her and Waverly together unsupervised, which seems somewhat jarring after Curtis had told her that she would be a good influence on his niece. 

A little bitterly, Nicole adds, “I know no one  _ really _ trusts me.” 

Curtis sighs, right as the kettle boils. He waits a moment before pouring the water. 

“It’s not that,” he says evenly, stirring his coffee and leaving it black. “You’ve been put under our care by the courts, Nicole. We’re not supposed to be leaving you unsupervised at  _ all _ before sending off our first update and waiting for their advice. If anything happens - even something outside of your control - we could be in serious trouble. You could be taken from our care, and moved again to someone else’s.” 

This sounds like the sort of excuse someone might give to a person they didn’t entirely trust, but it also seemed somewhat plausible, so at least they are not treating Nicole like a total idiot. More than that, she shocks herself with her immediate, internal reaction at the thought of being moved yet again. The idea of yet more upheaval is horrible, and if it means being cooped up then so be it. She does not want to have to all of this again. 

“Okay, fine,” she says, not intending for her voice to come out as bluntly as it does. “Then I just won’t go. Waverly and Wynonna can go.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Waverly mutters, half under her breath. Then, even more quietly, she adds, “I wish I hadn’t asked.” 

Unthinkingly, Nicole flashes her a look intended to say  _ tell me about it _ , and Waverly smiles. 

“I don’t need any comments between the two of you,” Curtis says stiffly. “But I’ve already told you both that you can go, so let’s leave it at that.”

“Seriously,” Nicole says, “I don’t want a big deal or any trouble. I’ll just stay here.” 

“I know you don’t, that’s why I’ve allowed this in the first place.” 

Curtis looks to Waverly, who stays uncharacteristically silent. 

“Well, I’ve told you you’re allowed. I’d want you back home before it gets too dark, so the decision is yours but don’t leave it too late or you’ll have to turn around before you even get there.” 

He waits for Waverly to acknowledge him, and eventually she shrugs again. 

“Okay, yes, fine. I got it before.” 

They all eat a small lunch in a silence that is more terse and tense than Nicole has ever known between the McCreadys and Waverly. 

Nicole happily helps to clear away the plates as an excuse to get away from the table, and when Gus joins her a moment later, they can both hear the quiet murmuring of a shared, surreptitious conversation between Curtis and Waverly. 

Nicole actively tries not to listen in, but even if she wanted to eavesdrop it is almost impossible to hear their conversation over the sounds of the water running and dishes and plates clinking together. 

A short while later, Nicole and Waverly leave the kitchen together and drift to Waverly’s room by unspoken assent. 

Waverly flops face down onto her bed with a moan, and Nicole sits on the edge of her own bed and watches as Waverly lays down without moving.

“I’m really sorry,” Nicole says. “I appreciate you trying to do something nice.”

Waverly replies, but Nicole can barely make out a word with Waverly’s face buried in her comforter. She must realise this, because she lifts her head a moment later and repeats herself. 

“Sorry. I said that you don’t have to apologise. It’s not  _ your _ fault.”

“Still. I don’t want to be the reason you argue with your family.”

“ _ You’re _ not the reason. They don’t trust me at all.”

Nicole cannot help but laugh. “Somehow I don’t think it’s you they don’t trust.” 

“No, it’s me too. They’re always telling me that I’m honest and smart, and that they know it’s okay for me to help out with the people who stay with us. Plus, they’ve literally  _ said _ you’re not here for anything bad, but like, when it comes down to it, they’re always putting a stop to pretty much everything. That’s why I didn’t tell them we were going out to the clearing. They’d have found some excuse then.”

“I just think they worry about you. Because they care. They must know they put a lot on you by doing what they do. They probably feel bad.” 

Waverly sighs and repositions herself until she is sat upright with her legs crossed beneath her. 

“Yeah. You’re right. It still sucks though.” 

“Sucks too that they don’t  _ actually _ trust me when they say they do. But it’s whatever.” 

“How, though?” Waverly asks. “How is it just ‘whatever’, to you? It annoys me so much that people keep underestimating me.” 

Nicole shakes her head. “I dunno why it doesn’t bother me. I guess because  _ I _ know I wouldn’t have done anything wrong, and that’s what’s important. Like yeah, it sucks that everyone still sees me the way I used to be. But I know I’m trustworthy.” 

Waverly smiles in a sad, self-deprecating sort of way.

“I guess it comes back to that whole, wanting people to like me thing again, huh?” 

“Hey, there doesn’t have to be anything wrong with that necessarily, so long as it doesn’t hold you back.”

“It’s holding me back right now. I’m sat here thinking how even though he said we can go out, I shouldn’t because that’ll please everyone more.”

“Well, what do you  _ want _ to do?”

“Go hang out with you somewhere that isn’t here or at school. Which is what a person who  _ isn’t _ seeking approval would do.”

“So?” Nicole says, biting at her cheeks against a grin. She can already hear the cogs turning; she knows what Waverly is contemplating.

“So what?” Waverly asks, looking unsure.

“So say fuck it and let’s go.” 

Waverly considers it for all of about ten seconds.

“Fuck it. Let’s go.” 

  
  
  
  
  


Just like that, Nicole finds herself on the road, sat at ease in the shotgun seat of Wynonna’s battered, rusty old pickup. 

Waverly had not even bothered to ask the question a second time, but instead had collected the keys from the semi-secret spot Wynonna apparently used as a half-assed hiding place. 

Nicole had tried to ask how Waverly knew about the keys, but the other girl had simply smiled enigmatically and lead Nicole out the door. 

All the same, Waverly drives the truck with ease, which suggests that she must have made more trips than Nicole had originally imagined. Perhaps she only gets ferried from place to place by her aunt or sister when there is a reprobate in the mix. 

“Do you drive to school when people like me aren’t around?”

Waverly glances across the centre console. “No. Someone always insists on taking me. Why do you ask?” 

“No reason,” Nicole says, trying to keep a smile from her face.

“ _ Nicole _ ,” Waverly protests. “I know there’s a reason, just say. I’ll worry otherwise.” 

“Alright bossy,” Nicole teases and Waverly sticks her tongue out. “It wasn’t a deep thing. You just look like you’ve driven this thing a lot and I wondered if that was why.” 

At this, Waverly blushes a little and effectively confirms Nicole’s suspicions. 

“Sometimes if it’s just me and Chrissy and no one else is around, I’ll drive us out somewhere. We don’t do anything especially exciting, just hang out like this.” 

“Without telling your aunt and uncle,” Nicole states playfully, pretending to _tsk_ _tsk_ and be disappointed.

“Well don’t make me feel guilty about it,” Waverly protests, mostly joking but probably, Nicole suspects, partly not. “They don’t have to know  _ everything _ .”

“This is true.”

“You  _ really _ thought I was gonna be some ‘good country girl’ stereotype, didn’t you?” 

“I mean, going for the odd drive for diner food isn’t the  _ most _ rebellious thing,” Nicole points out and Waverly huffs dramatically in response, presumably just to keep the playful back and forth going. “And it’s not like I thought it just for that.” 

“Well then why?” Waverly asks, sounding softer and genuinely curious.

“Your uncle straightens out bad kids for a living,” Nicole points out, “I kind of figured his kids would have to lead by example.” 

“And then you met Wynonna.” 

Nicole snorts. “And then I met Wynonna, yeah. And you.” 

“Oh please, I’m not a patch on her. I just borrow the car sometimes.”

“And sneak out to the woods, and to parties too,” Nicole says.

“Yes, those things too. Do you think that makes me a bad niece?” 

“Not even slightly, I think you’re doing what pretty much everyone else does. Or what they would do given the opportunity.”

“Well thanks,” Waverly says, back to playfully sardonic without any warning. 

“You appreciate it really,” Nicole teases back. “I mean, come on. I bet you don’t get this kind of treatment from half the other asshole kids your uncle has taken in.” 

Growing serious again and seemingly unbothered by this persistent change of tone, Waverly says,

“I think you know that I don’t.” 

She sounds thoughtful and grateful and kind of like she can’t believe how things have worked out.

In honesty, neither can Nicole.

The lapse into silence for a little while, the truck bouncing slightly on the uneven country roads, its wheels thrumming against the tarmac. 

Nicole relaxes in her seat, watching the trees and fields and mountains as they pass by, as Waverly fiddles with the dials on the dashboard, adjusting the music playing softly between them. 

She seems to have a thing for Kacey Musgraves and Nicole cannot help but think it is a perfect fit. The music is not necessarily her own style, but it feels just right for Waverly - sweet, bright, and just a little bit country. 

After a while, Nicole finds herself tilting her head back and letting her eyes drift slightly and for a moment she could be anywhere. She could just as easily be in Dolls’ car, chattering about the soccer match they are on their way to play. She could be with Shae, driving out of the city just to try and find a secluded outdoor spot where no one knows who they are, and no one cares  _ what _ they are to each other. 

This memory jars Nicole a little. She has not thought about her break up with Shae in a couple of weeks. There has just been so much else going on. She realises, in the storm that is the rest of her life, she has completely forgotten to be hung up on the relationship. She has never had to get over a proper relationship before, but she thinks this must be what it feels like. She did it without even noticing and wonders if that is how you are supposed to move on from someone. 

The realisation seems like quite a significant one, and Nicole is not sure whether to be proud of herself or completely devastated that the relationship is really, really over. 

At the same time, Waverly - completely oblivious to Nicole’s current thought processes - starts singing along softly and completely absently to the music. She probably does not even realise she is doing it, but it draws Nicole’s attention to her in its entirety. 

This is the first time Nicole has heard Waverly sing, and she is really, really good. 

Somehow, it is a fact that does not surprise Nicole at all, although she cannot say for sure why this is the case. This just feels like something Waverly should be good at; like it is natural for her. Nicole wonders why she has not heard her do it before now.

As Waverly drives and sings, Nicole finds herself watching. 

Waverly had plaited the upper section of her hair and shrugged into a fluffy beige teddy jacket before they left. There is something about the way Waverly looks that reminds Nicole of how it felt earlier that morning to be coddled in the unfamiliar warmth of the McCready's kitchen. 

It was an odd comparison but one that made sense to Nicole, who felt the same strange swell of comfort and safety in Waverly's presence like this as she had done warming herself with tea and Gus' company earlier. 

Waverly doesn't seem to have noticed the way she diverts Nicole's attention, and Nicole does not think to look away. 

It is chilly and still windy outside, but there is an accompanying burst of autumn sun that warms the pickup's cab just a little too much. 

Waverly has cracked her window an inch and in the breeze some of the loose strands of her hair dance, the slight blonde highlights amongst the brown glinting like gold leaf in the sunlight. 

After a moment or two more like this, Waverly seems to catch herself singing, and also to sense the direction of Nicole’s gaze because, all at once, she both falls silent and glances to Nicole. 

A little sheepish at being caught out, Nicole briefly returns to looking out of the window. 

She hopes it hadn’t seemed like she was staring in any way, and worries for a second that she’s made Waverly uncomfortable. She tries not to think back on things that had been said in the past if she had been unfortunate enough to have been staring into space in even the vaguest direction of a girl from her grade. While it had been true that most people in her immediate environment were progressive, not  _ everyone _ had been. 

Of course, the key difference here was that Waverly was interesting and to a degree Nicole  _ had _ been deliberately observing her, invested as she still is in figuring the girl out. 

Nicole thinks to apologise but Waverly beats her to it. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs and Nicole cannot help but turn back to look at her again, wondering what she could possibly have to be sorry over. 

“Why?” 

“I hadn’t realised I was singing aloud.” 

Nicole shakes her head. “That’s not something to apologise for. It was nice, actually. You’re really good.” 

Waverly laughs to herself. 

“Not at all, but thank you.” 

“Seriously, you sound really good. Is it something like you doing?” 

“Singing?” Waverly asks unnecessarily, “I mean, it’s pretty fun but I’ve never had any need to pursue it or take lessons or anything. Most people don’t even know that I like to do it. Obviously my family hear me around the house, but that’s it.” 

“Well don’t stop now on my account if you don’t want to. It sounded nice - especially to these songs. You like her, huh?” Nicole says, nodding to the stereo system as if the singer herself was at the front of the car.

“Oh, yeah. So I guess maybe there is something to that stereotype we were talking about it,” Waverly says thoughtfully, smiling to herself. “Do you like it? Or should I change it?” 

Nicole chuckles. “I don’t think listening to this and Taylor Swift really qualifies you as a stereotype. Plus I think I heard Ariana Grande’s entire discography on your headphones last night after lights out so I think you’re safe.”

“You could hear it?” Waverly asks, sounding shocked. “Why didn’t you tell me to shut up?!” 

“Yeah I could hear it a bit,” Nicole says, “but I refer you back to my usual point: it’s your room and your house. Besides, it didn’t keep me awake. I was on my phone anyway for a bit.”

“Okay, well next time just say.”

“If I need to, I will yeah.” 

“Seriously. It’s your room too right now.” 

“It literally isn’t, I’m crashing your space,” Nicole points out, adamant that she is not about to tell Waverly to stop doing anything while she is a guest in her home. 

“It’s felt more like a space we share than it has done with anyone else. So please. I want you to feel at home. Just ask for stuff like that. Like when I just asked if I should switch artists and you ignored me,” Waverly jokes. 

“Well you’re the one who distracted me! But to answer your question, I’ve literally never heard a song of hers in my life before now, but you don’t need to change it. It’s fine.” 

“What? Never?” Waverly asks, sounding mildly surprised. 

“Not that I know of.”

As they speak, one song ends and another begins.

"Well, this one's one of my favourites, so you're getting a good education now," Waverly declares, turning the volume up slightly so Nicole can hear properly. 

Nicole nods, making a point of listening carefully to the song as it plays. The music is decent enough, just not a style she is familiar with. At first it seems to be predictable country fare, but that does not automatically make it a bad song, and something about it piques Nicole's interest. As she listens, Waverly’s gaze darts between Nicole's face and the road in front of them, as if she is watching for Nicole's reaction. As if Nicole's reaction matters. 

Nicole is just about to say that the music is good, wanting to validate Waverly’s interests, when the chorus starts and Waverly, seeing Nicole open her mouth to speak, says,

"Listen to the chorus too."

Nicole wants to tease her for being bossy but she is caught unawares by the song. 

_ Make lots of noise, kiss lots of boys, but kiss lots of girls if that's what you're into… _

Nicole pauses for a moment. 

That was decidedly not what she had expected out of Waverly’s music tastes.

She cannot decide exactly what, if anything, Waverly is implying by highlighting these lyrics and opts not to fish for information at this time. 

"That's nice," Nicole says eventually and knows her tone conveys enough in and of itself to show that she is not being dismissive. "Really nice."

"I like it for the reason that it's saying that it's okay to be who you are, but I also like that it's literally just saying that you're damned whatever you do because you're never going to please everyone. It makes me feel better on a lot of levels."

Nicole nods. "I can see that. It's a really nice song. Thanks for sharing it with me."

At this, Waverly’s face splits into a delighted grin, the kind that makes Nicole wonder if she has ever actually heard those words before. 

They drive the rest of the way to the diner with the music up loud and by the time they arrive, Nicole has to admit that she kind of likes Waverly’s taste in music for the simple reason that it fits her perfectly. 

Waverly parks the truck in a sparsely-occupied lot. The diner is a squat, stereotypical little building quite literally in the middle of nowhere, and it seems as though it does not always do a roaring trade. Certainly, it looks to be about one third full when they step in the door and pick a window booth halfway between the door and counter.

As soon as they sit and Waverly offers her a menu, Nicole suddenly realises that she has an issue in the form of her inability to actually pay for anything. The last of her cash had gone on supplies for the plane journey out to Alberta. 

She cannot even buy a milkshake for herself and feels a flash of shame and frustration. 

"I'm uh, I'm actually good," she mutters, trying to slide the menu over to Waverly, who shakes her head.

"The sum total of what's vegan here is fries and black tea or coffee. I know what I'm having. You choose yours. It was my idea, so I'm paying," she replies, obviously aware of Nicole's conundrum.

"Seriously, I'm good," Nicole tries. She does not like relying on anyone for help, and she certainly doesn't want to owe Waverly for anything. 

" _ Nicole _ . I didn't drive all the way out here for you to watch me drink tea. Order something, please. I know you'll get me back sometime."

"That's the problem though, isn't it?" 

"Hey, I didn't put an expiration date on that. I won't order if you don't. And then we'll have to leave again. Or worse still I'll be that person who orders for you. Everyone likes chocolate shakes right?" Waverly pitches her voice just so, in a way that sounds see deliberately persuasive. At the same time, she flashes Nicole an incredibly winning smile. 

At the sight of it, Nicole's stomach flips over. There is something about Waverly’s smile that is infectious. It simply lights up her whole face. 

Not for this first time, Nicole silently and strictly tells herself  _ no _ . This is not an option. It is so far from an option to get any kind of crush - even just a glancing, inconsequential one - on the almost certainly straight niece of the man who is supposed to be reforming her. Or whatever. Even in Nicole's own mind, the situation sounds absurd. 

"Hetty is almost at the table. Now's your chance to tell me you hate chocolate," Waverly teases. 

"I don't," Nicole concedes eventually, a little smile slipping onto her face. "But I don't love the idea of owing you money."

"I honestly don't care," Waverly says kindly, before ordering with the girl who steps up to their table. She seems to know Waverly, but given that she looks to be only a little younger than them both, so Nicole is hardly surprised. 

Once she has written down the order - one tea, one chocolate shake, and a portion of fries - she turns to Nicole. 

"I haven't said ‘hey’ yet but I've seen you around school. I'm Hetty. My mom owns the diner."

"Hey, I'm Nicole. I'm uh, I'm - staying with Waverly for a bit."

Hetty flashes her the kind of sweet, understanding smile that almost everyone else has used when Nicole introduces herself as the next McCready project. It is like they're all saying  _ yeah I get it, _ when Nicole struggles to find the words. 

At any rate, Hetty seems genuinely sweet and earnest, with her pretty face and doe eyes and mousey hair. She even has faux cowboy boots. In fact, she is probably the kind of archetypal country girl Nicole was expecting Waverly to be. 

"Hetty's in the grade below us, but only just," Waverly says, playing her role of dutiful host to perfection.

"It's good to meet ya," Hetty says in a perfect drawl, glancing over her shoulder and looking, presumably, to ensure her mother is not watching her slack off. "And welcome to Purgatory. I better go before my mom catches me talking, but I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Sure, see you."

"She's nice enough," Waverly says when she is out of earshot. 

"She seems it," Nicole says wryly.

" _ Hey.  _ I didn't say some of us weren't a bit...stereotypical. Doesn't make us bad though, so lose the high and mighty look," Waverly tells her, but any sternness on her part is lost entirely by the smile on her face. 

"I'm not being high and mighty," Nicole insists, a little put out at the implication. 

"Then what?" Waverly asks, one eyebrow raised in challenge. 

"Nothing, it's just sweet. Endearing in a way. There's nothing bad in some stereotypes. I'm not judging. Seriously. I mean, come on. Who would I be to judge even if I wanted to?"

"It's okay, I know you're not really," Waverly says, voice momentarily serious to show her conviction. "I guess I just don’t want you to think we're backwards. Or at least not all of us," Waverly admits, biting at her bottom lip. 

Nicole cannot help but smile. "In case you haven't noticed," she says, "I like you. Besides, there are shitty people and good people everywhere, not just here. I  _ can  _ tell them apart, you know."

Waverly rolls her eyes. "Ass."

"And so, apparently, can you."

"Well, I don't  _ really  _ think you're an ass. And for the record, I like you too."

  
  
  
  
  


Without the supervision or company of anyone else at all, and without the worry of being spotted in the woods, Nicole and Waverly start to work out the extent to which they really do get on. 

Nicole had sensed it, of course she had. But like this, it is obvious that she and Waverly  _ connect. _

Without anyone around, and completely away from her home and school, Waverly really comes into her own. She seems to drop all illusions like this, and is easily and unabashedly herself. 

She is funny, even funnier in fact than Nicole initially realised, and the two of them have an effortless, natural rapport. 

They seem able to bounce off each other well, eventually making each other laugh to the point that coherent conversation becomes close to impossible. 

It is at this point that Nicole dimly registers the diner door opening, and the sound of multiple mingled voices blending together in loud conversation. She is not invested enough in anything outside of her own interactions to register the newcomers, but when Champ Hardy and his group of friends walk past, they spot Waverly and Nicole quickly enough. 

They stop beside the girls and this halts their laughter quickly enough. 

"Well, this looks cosy," comes a voice, and Nicole knows instantly that it belongs to Stephanie. 

For the first time, Nicole sees herself and Waverly as others would see them; sat together in a two-person booth, angled inwards as they lean closer to talk and share the enormous portion of fries Hetty had dropped off earlier. It must indeed look cosy, and Nicole cannot see a single thing wrong with it, although Steph's tone implies otherwise. 

Immediately, Waverly’s whole demeanour changes. She stiffens, sitting back slightly in her chair, and all trace of mirth fades from her face instantly. 

Nicole finds herself looking daggers at Steph, who seems to think she has every right to cheapen every moment that Waverly possesses as her own. 

Waverly says nothing so, eventually, after an awkward silence, Nicole says,

"It is thanks."

Just like that, all attention shifts from Waverly and onto Nicole. She does not care one bit. 

"Oh. Hi Nicole," Steph says, sounding particularly displeased to see her sat there with Waverly. The displeasure, Nicole thinks, is mutual. “I hadn’t realised the two of you had plans.” 

“No plans,” Nicole says bluntly, “we just felt like getting out.” 

Steph pulls an unimpressed expression before turning to Waverly. 

“Funny, because we did message you about joining us.” 

Waverly looks surprised at this, diving for her phone. She taps on the screen a few times before shaking her head to herself.

“No signal. And I forgot to log on to the Wi-Fi, sorry.” 

“Well, you  _ were _ very enthralled,” Steph points out innocently, and Nicole wonders if the other girl actually believes she sounds convincing or if it is all just an act.

Nicole suspects the latter.

After a pause, Chrissy pipes up. “Well, we’re all here now, so it worked out just fine one way or another.”

“Sure,” Steph says primly, before idly pointing somewhere to their left. “Well, we’ll be over there if you fancied deigning us with your presence.” 

She says this directly to Waverly, and Nicole finds herself glancing over to gauge the reaction that Steph’s words generate. She finds Waverly looking awkward and darting her gaze between her lap and someone who isn’t Stephanie. She looks almost unspeakably uncomfortable. 

Nicole follows her line of sight and eventually works out that Waverly is stuck under the watchful eye of Champ Hardy, who is watching Waverly with a hungry, desirous expression. 

Something in his gaze is oppressive, predatory even, and it sets off alarm bells in Nicole’s head immediately. She feels herself stiffen, but tries to keep a handle on her temper. It is not fair if either she or one of the others causes conflict with Waverly stuck somewhere in the middle.

As it is, Waverly looks uncomfortable enough. 

She nods and gives Stephanie a weak smile.

“Okay, thanks. We might have to head back in a bit. I told my uncle we -  _ y’know _ \- wouldn’t be out long.” 

The lie, coupled with an odd, pointed tone from Waverly, surprises Nicole - yes, they weren’t allowed to stay out late, but they still had hours before it would start getting dark. 

The other kids, however, buy Waverly’s mistruth easily and it takes Nicole another moment before she truly twigs on to why Waverly had said it. 

It would, of course, be believable that they could not be out for long because, Nicole supposes, everyone knows that she is not allowed to be. Probably, the other kids are thinking of how the awful, feckless McCready project cannot be out of the house too late.

The thought stings, and she casts her eyes down, grabbing her phone and scrolling through Instagram more for something to do than out of any genuine interest. 

“We’ll catch you both tomorrow then, yeah?” Chrissy says kindly, and it is obvious she is trying. Nicole wonders how much energy being peacekeeper really costs her. 

She glances up from her phone long enough to smile by way of goodbye, and Chrissy meets her gaze. 

“Actually, real quick, did you do the Psych homework yet?” Chrissy asks quickly, her direct question catching Nicole off guard. Her mind goes blank as to what the homework actually was.

“Uh, yeah. I think. I mean, I did everything the other day so I must have.” 

Chrissy reminds her of the questions in their textbook and Nicole catches on. 

“Yeah, yeah I remember now. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s kind of boring. I’d have blanked it by now too if I’d done it, but I’m not as organised as you.”

“Not as  _ supervised _ as me,” Nicole corrects and Chrissy chuckles. 

“Well, either way, I was just wondering if you got Question 7, because I don’t really understand what it’s asking us to do.”

Nicole scrunches up her nose, trying to remember which one that was. 

“I mean, I did manage to put an answer for every one. So I guess I did, but off the top of my head?” she says, shrugging, “I got nothing, sorry. You want me to take a look when I’m back h - uh, at the house?”

“Would you mind?” Chrissy asks, sounding relieved. “I hate it when I don’t actually understand the question, instead of just not knowing the answer.”

“It’s fine, I’ll take a look and somehow let you know how I approached it.”

Chrissy smiles. “Thank you, seriously. And Waves can give you my number, or just Facebook me or whatever’s easiest for you. I don’t want to be a pain.”

“You’re not, don’t worry,” Nicole says. 

With a final word of thanks, Chrissy starts to drift away, looking regretful and almost as though she would rather stay with Nicole and Waverly. 

When Chrissy has left, Waverly says,

“So much for not being able to do AP Psych.”

She has a happy, knowing little smile on her face but Nicole, still smarting from earlier, just shrugs and dismisses the praise. 

“It’s not like I said I know the answer.” 

At Nicole’s brusque tone, the smile slides right from Waverly’s face.

“Oh, well, no. But you must have understood the question.” 

“You don’t know that. I could have just blagged my way through it.” 

“Okay,” Waverly says, before muttering under her breath, “I was only trying to give a compliment.” 

“I  _ know _ ,” Nicole says, and Waverly blushes as she realises she’s been caught. “To the kid we  _ all _ know you can’t be left alone with for too long before your uncle wants you back home. Do you all literally think I’m going to flip out or something?” 

At this, Waverly’s blush deepens and she looks aghast at Nicole.

“I only said that to get rid of them,” she whispers. “I - I -”

She falters and Nicole sighs. “You what?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just didn’t think.”

Nicole shakes her head, eyes back on her phone, even though it has long since locked itself. 

“I get it, it’s fine. Forget I said anything.” 

“What do you get?” Waverly asks, sounding sad and genuinely curious; not at all confrontational.

“How I’m always gonna be seen. It doesn’t matter if it’s here or elsewhere. It just sucks because you’re all judging me based on  _ other _ kids you’ve had live with you. 

“I’ve said a hundred times Nicole, I’m  _ not _ judging you.” 

“No, you just know how to convincingly play into the preconceptions about people  _ like _ me. All the while getting on  _ my  _ ass for the stereotyping thing.”

Waverly goes to speak, looking for a moment as though she is going to argue the point, before her demeanour abruptly changes.

“I - God, I’m really sorry Nicole. I just,” here, Waverly pauses and casts a nervous glance over her shoulder, checking they are well out of earshot of anyone else, “I just wanted an excuse to stay here with you. I didn’t think about how the lie would sound to you. It’s - ”

Waverly pauses but after a moment it becomes clear she is quickly giving up on finding the words she needs.

“Hey,” Nicole says, softening too. “I’m sorry as well. I know deep down you didn’t mean anything, it’s just hard when it comes from certain people. Please, say what you wanted to.” 

“No, because I was going to say something super insensitive.” 

“Well, I promise not to be a dick about it this time.” 

“I - it’s…” Waverly stops and takes a deep breath. “I was going to say it’s hard for me, but what I meant was that it’s complicated for me too. I’m not used to our guests being, like...well, like you. Nice and kind and easy to talk to. I’m used to being cautious and always a little bit guarded. It’s like a habit and I’m learning something new, and I’m sorry.” 

Nicole considers this for a moment. She thought she had been giving credence to Waverly and allowing room for her feelings during this experience, but she had never thought of it precisely like that. She tells Waverly so.

“It never occurred to me like that. And I thought I was doing okay, being considerate of you and stuff - ”

“You  _ have _ been, more so than anyone else before.” 

“Still. I’m sorry too. Guess we’re both learning, huh?” 

Waverly smiles, still looking somewhat sad but it is clear the little storm has come to nothing for now.

“I guess we are, yeah.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They leave the diner not long after, just taking the time to polish off their fries. 

It had lost its cosy little glow since the other kids arrived, and both Waverly and Nicole know their classmates are glaring daggers at them across the room. 

Waverly settles the check, much to Nicole’s discomfort, and drives them back in the direction of the house. After a while, however, she takes a detour and eventually they pull up in a little viewing spot with a pretty impressive vista of the mountains and the surrounding scenery. 

They sit in silence for a moment, until Waverly asks a question that Nicole could not have anticipated in a million years.

“I was just wondering, back there before in the diner, when the others turned up...did you notice - I mean, I think you did...Champ was looking at me funny, right?”

She keeps her gaze fixed firmly on the landscape in front of them, and it seems that the light is starting to visibly and quickly fade before their eyes. Days are short now, and they do not have a lot of time left before they need to return to the house. 

“I saw him watching, yeah,” Nicole admits, tone a little darker than she’d intended. 

“Okay,” Waverly says quietly. “I wondered if it was just me. I got used to kids staring at me after my dad and sister...well, you know. It hasn’t happened in a long time though.”

Nicole cannot help but laugh quietly. “Well, I don’t think he was staring at you for  _ that _ reason.”

At this, Waverly casts a startled glance across the center console. She groans. 

“Oh God, not you too.” 

“I mean, that’s just what it looked like,” Nicole says gently, “I’ve been here two seconds. What do I know?”

“The others think it too, that he’s got an agenda. I guess it just didn’t make any sense to me.”

“Why?” Nicole asks, feeling a slight prickle of heat on the back of her neck when Waverly casts her questioning glance. “I mean, why wouldn’t you think someone would like you?”

“Well, firstly it’s Champ Hardy. He’s just a total shithead. Plus, he wasn’t even  _ nice _ to me until the last year or two. Or Chrissy. I once caught him and some of the other boys trying to lock her in a porta-potty when we were like twelve.”

“Wow,” Nicole says, shaking her head. “What an asshole.” 

“Yeah,” Waverly agrees, looking somewhat sheepish. “I totally freaked out on them for it. It was so mean.” 

Picking up on Waverly’s tone, Nicole’s grows interested in the story. “What happened?”

“Oh,” Waverly replies weakly, looking embarrassed. “Nothing...not really…”

“You’re literally the worst liar I’ve ever met. I’ll just ask Chrissy in Psych tomorrow then, since I know there’s something. She’ll have to trade me when I help her with the homework.” 

“It’s not even that juicy, I just grabbed a stick and whacked him with it a few times. Kinda hard…” Waverly’s eyes grow distant, as if she is very vividly recalling the moment, “...in the balls.” 

Waverly, bless her, looks so abashed by the whole thing that Nicole tries valiantly not to laugh. She sinks her top teeth into her bottom lip, and really, really works at it. When Waverly catches her, however, and tries to chide her, she loses the battle entirely.

“No, it’s not funny. I got in  _ so _ much trouble and somehow ended up being the one teased for it.” 

“I’m sorry,” Nicole says, still laughing. “But it’s a beautiful image. Truly. Sounds like you did good - and that you’re a good friend.”

“Well, Wynonna would have really kicked the shit out of him so I guess he got off lightly,” Waverly says, looking a little more pleased with herself now that Nicole has offered her seal of approval. 

“And now he likes you,” Nicole comments lightly, still chuckling. Then, completely sarcastically, she adds, “I guess what they say about little boys pulling little girls’ pigtails is true after all.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. “It just doesn’t make any sense to me. He was so mean to so many people. Can someone really change that much?”

“I mean, hypothetically?” Nicole says, “yeah, I reckon so. I like to think I did. But has he? Jury’s out.” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Waverly replies thoughtfully, and it is very obvious that her disbelief in Champ Hardy’s attention is rooted in more than just his past precedent for bullying Waverly and Chrissy. 

“What else makes it hard to believe?” Nicole asks gently. 

“I guess like,” Waverly begins, taking a deep breath and considering the question, “it’s not like it’s the first time someone’s liked me, I’ve  _ obviously _ kissed someone before and all that. But it’s like I said to you, my family has kind of reputation. I know you heard Steph say that there’s not a ton of people lining up to date an Earp.” 

Nicole’s blood boils at this reminder. 

“I still can’t believe she said that. It’s ridiculous” 

“No, it’s not,” Waverly whispers, looking and sounding teary.

It takes everything in Nicole’s power not to reach out to her. 

“No, Waverly, it’s not. It’s  _ such _ an asshole move and very blatantly untrue.” 

“Oh, you’ve seen the people lining up have you?” Waverly jokes, and it could have sounded bitter or rude but she pitches the humour well and it lands perfectly. 

“Come on, it’s not like that.”

“No, I know. I was just joking,” Waverly says.

“I know, good almost-movie reference.” 

Waverly smiles. “Thanks. Also, sorry.”

“What for?” Nicole asks.

“Bringing this up, especially so soon. It’s kind of a deep conversation in a way.”

“Isn’t that becoming our thing?” Nicole says with a grin.

Waverly laughs lightly. “Yeah, maybe it is. Still, I’m sorry for diving straight into the insecurities topic in basically the first week.” 

Nicole takes a deep breath. She is always worried about saying stuff like this, but she thinks Waverly needs to hear it. 

“You do know you’re like, seriously pretty right? And smart and sweet. So I wouldn’t think twice about what that asshole says. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s not about your surname, it’s about who you are as a person.” 

Waverly looks surprised, and Nicole wonders immediately if she has said too much. 

“You really think that? That I’m pretty and clever and stuff?” Waverly says, sounding shocked. 

“Yeah, I do.”

“Oh, okay,” Waverly replies, obviously trying to process this. “Thank you.”

“I’m just being honest.” 

“So you think it’s not that crazy that he might actually be genuinely interested? And it’s not a joke or a prank?” 

“No one would be crazy for being into you, okay? And to me at least, it doesn’t seem like a joke on his part,” Nicole says, before adding, “ _ he _ seems kinda like one though. He hasn’t been that nice to anyone so far that I’ve seen.” 

Waverly nods, but Nicole can see that the thought is germinating with her now, the idea that maybe this Champ Hardy kid has a genuine crush on her. 

It is hard to say whether she might reciprocate, or whether she is simply flattered and relieved that Stephanie’s prediction had not come true. 

Nicole wonders if she has said too much, because this had not been an attempt to encourage Waverly to consider Champ’s advances when she can clearly do so much better. 

All the same, it is clear that the conversation is over and, all told, it had been totally worth it to see the happy little smile on Waverly’s face when Nicole had complimented her. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


In spite of a very obvious distaste for her current crowd of supposed friends, as well as a blossoming rapport with Nicole, Waverly does not actually alter much of her behaviour at school in the days and weeks that follow. 

She does not break away from the crowd when Champ - and therefore by extension the whole gang - converges with Waverly and Chrissy at lunchtimes, and she makes no sudden moves to sit with Nicole in their shared AP English class. 

Nicole does not take it especially personally, but she doesn't try to pretend she wholly understands Waverly’s mindset either. 

Stephanie Jones remains awful and, to Nicole's mind, her friends remain complicit. As a result, she steers well clear of the group when they are all together, preferring to meet up with Waverly by their lockers at the end of the day and catch up then. 

In fact, Nicole spends more time with Chrissy some days than with Waverly, due to their attempts to talk a bit during Psychology. Mostly, however, she sticks with Robin. 

In her second week at school, she is allowed to try out for a couple of sports teams - both by the school who had already scheduled tryouts, and by Curtis - and when she is successful the training sessions eat into her idle time around school a little bit. 

The school doesn’t have a ladies soccer team unsurprisingly, but they do have mixed-gender basketball and swimming teams, both of which Nicole is accepted into. Basketball training takes place during a couple of lunch sessions per week, and swimming coincides nicely with Waverly’s afternoon cheer practice every Wednesday immediately after school. 

This, Nicole suspects, is part of why she is allowed by the McCreadys to join the team at all.

All the same, even with her new extra curricular activities keeping her busy and somewhat scratching the itch soccer had left behind, she still sees Robin every day in Physics class and at lunchtime on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. 

He turns out to be a good friend, and it is easy to trust him when they both know they are carefully carrying each other’s secrets. 

One Friday almost a month after Nicole arrives in Purgatory, Robin turns up to school with a makeshift dressing on his right forearm. He mostly keeps it covered by his hoodie sleeve, but had given himself away when he had unconsciously pushed it up at the elbow in front of Nicole as they sit and eat lunch. 

“What did you do?” she asks innocently, forgetting momentarily about Robin’s previous hints about his father’s drinking and temper. 

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Robin says quickly, cheeks colours. “I mean, I burnt myself on the oven.”

Nicole eyes him carefully for a second.

“You want to talk?” 

“I mean, maybe,” Robin says, “but not here.” 

They are sat only a few tables away from Champ and his friends, and Nicole understands that Robin would want to take no chances. 

“It’s okay weather and we still have half an hour. Let’s go for a walk,” Nicole says, tone leaving no room for debate. She is not in the business of forcing anyone to do anything at all, but there are some things that are a matter of safety and urgency. 

To her surprise, Robin doesn’t argue, and they collect their things and head outside, starting on a lap of the grounds. 

“So?” Nicole says softly. “Is everything okay? As okay as it can be?”

“Yeah, honestly it is. It really was an accident with the oven,” Robin says, and something in his tone makes Nicole believe him. “I got home from school last night and dad had been drinking. He wanted food and was going to cook for himself - I took over because he was a total danger to both of us. He kinda drunkenly caught his feet as he moved around me, I fell and my arm caught the stove. It hurt like shit but I don’t want anyone knowing. Too many questions could come up.”

Nicole winces in sympathy. All the same, she knows the very same inherent need to hide something in case it opened up a bigger can of worms.

“So long as you’re safe, yeah?” 

“I am, for sure. Dad’s an asshole when he’s drunk and he can get pretty angry, but even he was shocked by what happened. It might even have done him good in a weird, fucked up sort of a way.” 

“I’m sorry it took that,” Nicole said. “And I’m not going to pretend I haven’t hidden injuries to keep people from interfering. Just please, take care of it and stuff. Otherwise it’ll all be so much worse.” 

Robin nods, jaw tight. “I will. And thank you.”

“What for?”

“For noticing and caring. And for not judging or overreacting.”

“I’m hardly in a position to do either of those things,” Nicole points out.

“I know, but still. I appreciate it.” 

They lapse into silence but keep walking, treading the perimeter of the only field that backs onto the school building. It is not used for Phys Ed lessons or sports games, but whilst the lunch break is in session, some people have set up informal games to keep themselves entertained despite the cold weather. 

As Nicole and Robin walk, both of their heads bowed as they reflect, a soccer game unfolds nearby. Hearing a cry from those involved, Nicole looks up to observe right as a boy she recognises as Perry from her sports class yells,

“Hey, watch out! Heads!” 

A stray soccer ball comes flying towards them and, on instinct, Nicole blocks it and brings it under control. Without thinking, she kicks it right back to Perry and her aim is completely perfect. 

“Dude, what the hell was that?” Robin says, looking impressed and it takes Nicole a moment or two to work out how she could possibly have caused any commotion at all. 

In the intervening moments, Perry jogs over. 

“Smooth moves,” he says with a grin when he is within earshot. “Mind if I asked where you learnt that?” 

“I was on a soccer team back at home,” Nicole says, finally realising that her completely underwhelmed response to the ball might have surprised any observers. “I’ve played since I was young.” 

“Well it looks like you know what you’re doing,” Perry comments. He is still one of the only guys in her Phys Ed class who is nice to her. “We’re actually an odd number right now and three goals down if you fancied subbing in? I hate losing,” he jokes, but Nicole has seen from experience that he is actually a pretty good sport. 

She looks around at the rest of the players - only a few are in her class, the rest she doesn’t know at all. 

“Oh, well I would but uh - ” she says, glancing to Robin. She doesn’t want to ditch him.

“You’re good, you go,” Robin responds quickly, “there’s not that much time left anyway and I should uh, go to the restroom before final period.” His hand drifts to the spot where his bandage is hidden beneath his clothes, and Nicole nods.

“Good idea,” she tells Robin before turning to Perry. “Sure, if nobody minds. I haven’t played since I got here, and I’m kind of desperate to jump in.” 

“No one’s gonna mind,” Perry says, gesturing for her to follow him and shouting out the news to his team. 

Due to the fact that Champ and his friends are still in the lunchroom, most of the other kids here turn out to be pretty cool. Probably, Nicole realises, they don’t want to be targets any more than anyone else. 

It must seem a bit odd to them, subsuming a girl onto the team for what Nicole would bet is the first time, but if anyone has a problem then no one mentions it. 

Instead, Nicole lobs her backpack to one side and takes a spare place in midfield. It is not her favourite position, but she would have probably stood in as a linesman if it got her closer to the match. 

As it is, with only fifteen minutes of lunch left, Perry’s side do not scrabble back a win even with Nicole on their side. All the same, she sets up two pretty sweet goals and the losing margin is a little more respectable at three-two when the bell rings. 

“You know,” Perry says when they make a move back towards the main building, “you should ask Coach if the school’d let you join the team. You’re better than half my squad.”

“Thanks,” Nicole replies, even as she shakes her head, “but I’m not optimistic.”

“Well, you never know,” Perry remarks thoughtfully, “the staff here pretty much have a one-track mind for football. They might be less wedded to their painfully outdated sexism when it comes to soccer.”

“Perhaps,” Nicole tells him, more as a placatory gesture. 

“Well, think about it. I’m captain and I’d have you on my team any day. I’ll put in a good word for you, if you like? Or do you not miss it  _ that _ much?” 

Perry has a playful glint in his eye. He really  _ is _ nice. All the same, Nicole elbows him. 

“ _ Don’t _ . I think it’s pretty obvious I missed it.” 

“So? See what you can work out. Something promising has to come along, right?” 

Nicole nods, thinking to herself that Perry might be right.

For the last month she has been easing into life here, and the longer it has gone on, the longer a strange bubble of emotion has been building in her chest. It has, until recently, been difficult for her to work out.

Now however, after this unexpected moment, Nicole realises that the thing she is starting to feel is hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever I hope you're enjoying this fic, and I'd really love to hear from you re your thoughts so far.
> 
> I hope everyone has a very lovely festive season!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we've got a LOT of feelings, a bit of conflict, and some kind of bad news for Nicole. Which is followed by some nice comfort, because our girl needs it.
> 
> Thank you as ever to everyone who's been following along so far, and apologies for not replying to your comments yet. I'm going to get on that soon.

“Did you know,” Waverly begins from her spot in bed, “ that it’s officially been a month since you’ve been here?”

Nicole pauses in the doorway, her breathing still heavy after her morning run combined with her recent ascent up the stairs. 

She is used to this routine by now. 

Every morning, without fail, she gets up before the rest of the house to take a run, resolutely ignoring the steady drop in temperature.

Somehow, her alarm and her quick but quiet attempts to collect her clothes do not even make Waverly stir, and Nicole is ready and out the back door in about five minutes flat. 

By the time she gets back, however, she always finds Waverly awake and sat up in bed, blanket draped around her shoulders and her attention fixed on her phone. She usually has some morning greeting ready for when Nicole returns, but this one is a little unexpected. 

“I’d known it was coming up, yeah,” she says, still breathing deeply. The warmth of the house as the heating system slowly wakes up is not entirely pleasant after the cold sting of morning air on her skin. She feels herself start to sweat a little bit on the back of her neck. “But I didn’t know the exact date. It’s cute that you know our anniversary though.” 

As a half-hearted retort, Waverly tosses a cushion from her bed in Nicole’s direction, but it lacks any real conviction. It grazes against Nicole’s arm before dropping heavily to the floor. 

Nicole sidesteps it primly, before collecting a fresh t-shirt and a pair of jeans from what has almost naturally become her own portion of closet space. 

It is surprising really, the difference a month can make. 

She still did not entirely feel like she  _ fitted _ here in Purgatory exactly, but she had at least stopped feeling at all times as though she was an intruder in someone else’s home. Mostly, she still felt like a guest, treading on eggshells and never entirely relaxed, but the times when she feels most at home are like the present moment - when she and Waverly are together in the room they share. 

All the same, she has not shaken the habit of asking permission for every little thing. 

“Do you mind if I take the bathroom first?”

“No more than I do every other morning,” Waverly teases. “You really,  _ really _ don’t have to keep asking.” 

“And yet you know I will anyway,” Nicole retorts with a grin. “How do I know you don’t want to switch up our plans this time? Even if you  _ are _ big on planning.” 

“You did a run, you get first dibs on the shower,” Waverly points out, still obviously playful and joking. “I still don’t know how you do it anyway, especially now that it’s dark and cold.” 

“Well, I like it,” Nicole says. “It’s my ‘me’ time.”

“I know,” Waverly says softly, whole demeanour changing. “I get it really. But anyway, you go use the bathroom.”

Nicole thanks Waverly and heads off to finish up her morning routine. When Nicole is done in the shower, they switch and Nicole packs her bag for school before drifting downstairs. 

As with every other day that Nicole has been in Purgatory, Gus is preparing breakfast, and Wynonna is nursing a cup of black coffee with a scowl on her face. Mornings were apparently Kryptonite to an Earp, because neither of the sisters is especially chirpy first thing, although Wynonna seems to suffer the worst of it. 

“Good morning hon,” Gus trills from her position at the stovetop, “help yourself to some orange juice.” 

She too has learnt that Nicole always asks. 

Nicole sits with a glass full of juice, aware that Gus never accepts help in preparing meals, but always expects it when they are cleaning up. 

“Do you have your Physics test today?” Gus checks, still facing away and staring into her frying pan. 

“Yeah,” Nicole confirms after she takes a sip of juice. “Right before lunch.” 

“And?” Gus prompts. “How do you feel about it?”

“I mean, I’m okay with it I think,” Nicole says with a shrug. “I studied for it over the weekend and I’ve been getting 80s and 90s on our daily work so I think it’ll be alright. I’m not that nervous or anything.” 

As she finishes speaking, Gus turns with an amused, gentle smile on her face.

“What?” Nicole asks, suspicious about the expression and what it might mean. 

“What a very _ ‘Nicole’ _ answer,” Gus tells her fondly. “As always, everything in your stride, huh?” 

Nicole simply smiles and shrugs, thanking Gus when she puts a plate of eggs on the table in Nicole’s place setting. 

This is not a rare thing for Nicole to hear. Every ‘meeting’ with Curtis - usually dressed up as him showing her the ropes on some new piece of farm work or, on one occasion recently, a drive to buy and collect some additional firewood - almost inevitably touches on what the McCready family seems to see as Nicole’s impeccable easygoing aura. 

They seem to find her unflappability odd - or at the very least remarkable - and every time they mention it, Nicole finds herself reiterating what she told Curtis during that very first discussion in the greenhouse. She does not see that she has any other choice - getting on with things has always been a part of life for her.  _ Not  _ getting on with them when she was younger was a bad move and had served no one. 

She starts eating her breakfast, scrolling through her phone although there is very little to remark upon. Dolls had texted her over the weekend to update her on their team’s latest matches, and she had informed him that Perry wanted her to start playing soccer. At the end of the conversation, he had added,  _ soon be a month down, only about three to go _ and, for the first time in a while, Nicole was reminded of her plan to skip town as soon as she turns eighteen. 

It was with something of a jolt that she realised she had forgotten about it completely. 

She supposes it is still the best plan overall, and tries to keep this more firmly in mind going forward. 

Still, however, she has not heard from her parents. She cannot quite work out if it hurts less or more as time goes on and she supposes that this, at least, would be a downside to skipping out on Purgatory early. At least here in the McCready’s house someone is always around if needed, and is always trying to be nice to her. 

Plus, the food is always fantastic. Nicole certainly doesn’t get that at home and she cannot say she has missed the time spent worrying over whether she will eat or not. 

Silently, she eats her eggs and, eventually, Waverly appears, the ends of her hair still wet from the shower. 

She accepts whatever vegan version of breakfast Gus has made, and sits close to Nicole at the table.

Over the past few days, Nicole has started to accept that the McCready’s daily routine really is quite comforting in its domesticity. Every morning after her run and bathroom negotiation with Waverly comes breakfast in what is usually soft and gentle silence, after which someone - usually Gus - drives Nicole and Waverly to school. After school, which is more often than not unremarkable in its mundane, repetitive nature, someone - usually Wynonna - brings both the girls back to the house again. 

Waverly and Nicole do their homework together (they have just migrated from Waverly’s bedroom to the kitchen table, because the weather is starting to grow cold, but the oven always keeps the kitchen warm), eat dinner with the family, and have the rest of the day to themselves. 

Usually, they then slink off to Waverly’s room and watch a movie together, or else Waverly reads while Nicole watches sports recaps on her laptop. 

On some nights they talk, and on others they do not - it all depends on the mood they find themselves in. Nicole had thought that constant exposure to others would leave her restless and irritable - and from time to time it does - but she and Waverly seem to get on so well that it is easy for them to spend so much time together.

And on the days when Nicole does want some privacy, she excuses herself for a run, or even for a walk around the farm. She has gotten used to the animals there now, and has even let Waverly persuade her to take another horse ride. 

There have been no more arguments or near misses between the girls since the diner and Nicole has just started slipping into a mindset where maybe, just  _ maybe _ , Waverly and family really do see the real her when they’re around her. 

All the same, there is still an itch for her old life back that seems settled deep in Nicole’s skin.

She cannot work out what it is, or where it really comes from because undeniably this life requires a lot less thought and planning than her old one, where she fended for herself in every way imaginable.

She thinks it is probably something to do with the fact that none of this is still truly of her volition. Things are only going smoothly because she is toeing a line that other people set for her, quite without her input or consent. Skipping out on the program in January might make some things harder again, but it would be  _ her _ life and that, she thinks, would make all the difference. 

For now, however, she is at the behest of Gus telling them both to wash their dishes and then put their shoes on, ready to go. 

For the rest of the day, she is at the behest of the school, where she sits a Physics test that leaves her feeling neither totally downtrodden nor completely confident. She swaps verbal notes with Robin on their way out and then dashes off to change into her gym clothes for her lunchtime basketball training session.

She scarfs down a sandwich a little under an hour later, changing back again and hurrying to AP Math to close out the day in the most boring way possible. This class has grown no more interesting throughout the semester, and all she can really do is thank her lucky stars that she can handle the content. Most days, she preemptively works through the homework since the teacher always writes it up on the board at the start of class. 

Her grades are solid - in fact, they are more than solid and are certainly enough to get her onto a good college course - so she is not too bothered whether she listens to the teacher or not. 

Then, after this last stretch of boredom, she is at the behest of Wynonna, who drives Nicole and Waverly back home again after the end of the school day. 

“ _ So girls _ ,” Wynonna says in what Nicole assumes is her best suburban mom voice as she pulls out of the parking lot, “how was school and all that crap?”

The PTA mom imitation shatters pretty quickly. 

Waverly starts immediately on an account of her History class, and Wynonna lets it go on for a short period before capitalising on Waverly’s attempt to draw breath. 

“Yeah, I’m mainly here for the good gossip and shit.” 

Nicole and Waverly share a look. The latter says,

“I don’t really have any to be honest.”

“And no one but Robin ever wants to socialise with me,” Nicole adds, “so I got nothing.” 

Wynonna blows a raspberry. “ _ Boring _ . You can’t tell me your grade doesn’t have  _ something _ going on.”

Suddenly, Waverly snaps her fingers as if suddenly recalling something. “Oh,  _ actually _ \- well, it’s not our grade but - I  _ did _ hear that Tucker Gardner got in trouble for taking upskirts again.”

Wynonna groans and says, “God that little weasel,” right as Nicole exclaims,

“What do you mean ‘again’?!”

“Yeah,” Waverly says heavily. “He got caught right before the summer vacation. I reckon that’s why he got off so lightly - there was time for it to die down.” 

“How was he not expelled?” 

“He’s a Gardner,” Waverly says, as though that explains everything. 

“Like the part time job?” Nicole asks, her question semi-sarcastic as she knows this cannot really be what Waverly meant. 

“Like his family,” Wynonna corrects, sounding glum. “He definitely doesn’t have a job. The Gardners are one of the richest families around here, they have their fingers in every pie possible. They have two daughters, Mercedes is a bit older than me and Beth is probably between our ages. Tucker is  _ definitely _ the unplanned accident youngest kid. Spoilt brat too, though his sisters are alright.” 

If Nicole has learnt anything in the last month, it is that the word ‘alright’ coming from Wynonna to describe anyone from Purgatory was practically a glowing compliment. 

“So this is your heads up step-kid,” Wynonna goes on, the nickname now common usage between her and Nicole and as such totally unremarkable, “if you go picking any fights while you’re here, don’t start on Tucker Gardner. He’s untouchable. And his high school superlative will  _ definitely _ be ‘most likely to become a serial killer’”.

“Noted,” Nicole says drily, completely dumbfounded by the standards for boys around here. Between this story and Waverly telling her that she got in trouble for defending Chrissy from Champ and his friends, Purgatory increasingly sounds like the last bastion of patriarchal bullshit. 

Instead of raising the point, however, Nicole elects to sit and listen as the sisters fall back on an ingrained routine of harmless squabbling. It doesn’t seem to matter the context, they will always revert back to this eventually. Nicole thinks it is obvious to everyone but Waverly and Wynonna themselves just how deeply and fiercely they love each other. 

Nicole half wishes she had experienced something similar, but knows she is lucky to have been accepted by the Earps in the first place. 

The trio clatter into the house over half an hour later, each of the girls kicking their shoes off and hanging up their coats on a stand by the door. 

On autopilot, both Nicole and Waverly drift into the bedroom and, facing away from each other, they switch out of their school clothes in favour of more comfortable baggy t-shirts and sweatpants (Nicole) or leggings (Waverly). 

Gus meets them in the kitchen a moment later with their usual fare of tea and cookies, letting them both chatter at her for a while as they stack their books up on the table and rifle through their journals to review their homework for the night. 

Right before they settle in, Waverly suddenly looks across the table at Nicole.

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” she says, “how was your test?”

Nicole pulls a face. “Yeah, it was alright thanks. I think I got a good enough score to pass the class. There’s two or three more tests to pull up any lost marks on some of the harder questions. All fine I think.” 

Waverly nods along to show she is listening as she searches in her bag for some lined paper. 

“God, I wish I could be half as chilled out as you. I have a history test tomorrow and I am _freaking_ _out_.” 

Nicole pauses with her pointer finger stuck between the pages of her Political Science textbook so that she can study Waverly. Outwardly, she looks to be the picture of serenity, but Nicole is starting to learn how to scratch beneath the surface with Waverly Earp. 

There  _ are _ signs she is stressed.

She is a little less giving with her smiles, and a little less tactile than normal. She is snappier than Nicole is used to, not at anyone in particular, but more often than not with things or processes that are trying or mundane. Earlier that day, she had helped Nicole wash up the breakfast things, and had snapped at herself for dropping a handful of cutlery on the floor. All the same, while Waverly seems to try to keep her little outbursts to herself, Nicole is not sure she would actively  _ want _ to test her friend in times of stress. Little things like this were becoming more easy to spot in Waverly now that they have known each other a while. 

Plus it is kind of obvious that Waverly has a lot going on right now. 

In addition to the normal pressures of being a senior, there is a big football match coming up at the end of the week, for which Waverly - as head cheerleader - has needed to prepare. 

“Well,” Nicole says thoughtfully, “you seem to have a good handle on it. But I can help if you want. Test you after dinner maybe? I know you’ve made a billion flashcards.” 

Nicole cannot help but smile about this. Waverly’s bookshelf is practically groaning under the weight of binders, bullet journals, notebooks, and flashcards. 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Waverly retorts, smiling back, “they’re useful.”

Nicole holds her hands up in defence. “Whatever works for you, you know?” 

For her own part, Nicole does not have the patience - or the handwriting - to make copious little flashcards. 

“Well, it does help,” Waverly admits thoughtfully, now nibbling lightly on the end of her pen. “And would you really not mind giving up some more of your evening testing me on my dates?”

“Of course not,” Nicole says brightly, “I offered right?” 

“Yeah,” Waverly confirms. “You did. Thank you.” 

“Not a problem.”

The girls smile at each other before settling in to do their own separate assignments. After Nicole finishes her Political Science essay at much the same time that Waverly has written out a laborious English-to-French translation, she asks,

“Would you uh, would you mind working through the English questions together? Obviously not to put the same answers down or cheat or anything. Just, you’re really good at it.”

English is by far Nicole’s weakest subject but it seems like a good idea to take the class. There’s probably a lot of report writing in police work, and the more literate she seems to be, the better.

While she is far from bad at the subject, she is still not keen on not being actively  _ good _ at things, or feeling as though she is groping blindly around the subject and just about maintaining a sketchy A- average. 

“Oh, I’m not that good,” Waverly says dismissively, “but sure, let’s do that last in case we get chatting.”

At this, Gus clears her throat pointedly.

“Which  _ obviously _ we would never ever do,” Waverly adds as a sheepish afterthought, missing the way Gus smiles to herself as she watches the girls studying together. 

A moment later, Waverly excuses herself briefly to the bathroom, and Nicole quickly finishes the last Math exercise that she did not quite cram into class earlier. 

As she stuffs those books back in her rucksack and out of the way, she realises that Gus is still watching. 

She furrows her brow in question, not sure if she should really ask what the woman is thinking. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Gus says with a contented sigh, “I just never thought I’d see the day when one of our guests would sit at our table and make Waverly feel so at ease, let alone of their own accord. Much less did I think they’d be offering to help my niece study. I know it probably doesn’t sound like a lot to you, but it is to us.” 

Nicole shakes her head. “You’re right, I don’t think it’s a lot.”

She says this softly and not to be disparaging but rather to tell Gus that she does not think she is worthy of what seems to be rather a lot of praise. She adds, “I’m not doing anything special.”

“Well respectfully hon, that’s where I think you’re wrong. Perhaps it doesn’t seem special to you, but it does to us. I have no doubt that Waverly has told you about the sort of issues we’ve helped kids through in the past, and the sort of behaviour it engendered in them. Of course, we understand  _ why _ they acted out but that didn’t make it easy. I don’t think you really know how much we appreciate your respect, co-operation, and patience here Nicole.” 

Nicole chuckles. “I thought you were the ones who were being forced to be patient with me.” 

“We’re not being forced to do anything, we do this because we want to.”

This comment gives rise to a question Nicole has harboured since her arrival here.

“Actually, yeah, can I ask you about that?” 

Gus nods. “Of course you can.”

“Why  _ do _ you do this? It’s not like I want to sound rude or ungrateful - I guess I just don’t get it.”

“Oh, I know you’re not a rude kid. And the answer, as contrived as it might sound, is that we do this because we want to help. Because we believe our life here on the farm and in the country  _ can _ help. We know we have a good thing here - why wouldn’t we want to share that?” 

“That makes sense I suppose. I guess it just wouldn’t be  _ my _ first thought, opening up my house to asshole - uh,  _ bad _ \- people like me. Especially when you never really know what you’re going to get.”

“For the record and as if I haven’t heard my husband and niece telling you this enough already,” Gus says with a knowing smile, “we have never - nor will we ever - think of our lodgers as  _ assholes _ . Or bad people. You are certainly not a bad person. And it didn’t immediately occur to us either. If Curtis wasn’t friends with the judge who presided over your case and who suggested this to us years ago, we might never have walked this path. But I’m truly glad this calling found us.”

Gus sounds so sincere that Nicole does not doubt her conviction, but she still does not understand it. 

“Even though you’re never sure what you’re going to get?” Nicole repeats and Gus smiles.

“ _ Especially _ then,” she responds, deliberately parroting Nicole’s earlier choice of word. “Because yes, that can result in some really rather fraught situations. But then we get to see the turnaround, no matter how long that takes. And just think, if we didn’t take that risk, then we’d never have had  _ you _ .” 

This comment is unexpected and Nicole feels her stomach flutter. She shakes her head in disbelief. 

“You don’t have to sa- like, I know you don’t mean that. It’s okay.” 

At this, Gus’ expression shifts to sadness. “Now what makes someone as smart as you say something so silly?” 

Nicole shrugs. The truth is, she has never felt like she really, really mattered before and the idea that she has people around her who might actually care still does not compute. Instead of explaining this, she says simply,

“I don’t know. It’s just how I feel, I guess.”

“Well, don’t worry. We’ll get there,” Gus says matter-of-factly, stepping closer and squeezing Nicole’s shoulder firmly. “I know you’re not quite at ease here yet, and I know this all still feels forced upon you, but that’s something else we can all work on together. It’s clear that you haven’t realised it yet, but you’ve grown so much in yourself already Nicole, and in turn we’ve grown so very fond of you. We knew almost from day one that all you needed was a break so that you could shine for yourself. And, well, you’re part of our family now.” 

In response to this moment of candour, Nicole lets out an embarrassingly watery laugh. 

“I wouldn’t bank on that. I’ll f-  _ screw _ up eventually.” 

She decides it would be better for Gus never to have said this than for Nicole to be given a chance to actually lose something important for once. 

“You won’t,” Gus says confidently. “And if somehow you did? Well then, family is all about forgiveness.”

Nicole opens her mouth to respond appropriately, but no words are forthcoming. Instead, with a big lump in her throat she simply whispers,

“Thank you.” 

With a show of impeccable timing, Waverly chooses this moment to return and if she notices the tears in Nicole’s eyes or the sudden intense atmosphere in the room, she kindly elects not to mention it. 

Instead, they finish the last of their separate work and Waverly patiently coaches Nicole through the English class assignments. Waverly is easily one of the best in the class at this stuff, even if she is painfully unaware of it. Nicole, on the other hand, skates by on what she feels as the basics. Together, however, they bounce ideas off each other and inspire some new interpretations of their source material in each other.

“Hey,” Waverly says when they are finally done and ready to pack up their things in time for dinner, “we’re a really good team. We should pair up on the next group assignment!”

The comment takes Nicole by surprise. Thus far, they have stayed mostly separate at school, not in a bad way, but simply because that is how it has worked out. 

“I mean,” Waverly goes on, suddenly growing doubtful, “only if you want to, obviously.”

“Oh, I do! Of course,” Nicole says quickly, “I just know that you always work with Steph and Rach, and I don’t want to be the bad guy for throwing a spanner in the works.” 

Waverly shakes her head. “Oh, don’t even worry about it. When it’s a pairs project they team up immediately and leave me to work out who else is free.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Nicole teases immediately. “I see how it is then. Afterthought territory, huh?” 

At this Waverly’s eyes go wide and she tries frantically to backtrack.

“Oh my God, no, that’s not what I meant at all. I wanted us to work together. I meant if we need to do a group project I’d work with you and whoever else. Not necessarily pairs.” 

Nicole cannot keep herself from laughing. “You’re totally fine, I’m just messing around. I know what you meant, and I wouldn’t have cared either way. It’s still nice that you want to hang out in school a bit more. It actually kind of sucks that I don’t see more of you.” 

“Well, you’re always welcome,” Waverly replies, but it is obvious she is not stupid enough to believe that.

“I think we both know that I’m not,” Nicole points out softly. “But hey, if you ever want to swing by the social outcast table, me and Robin are pretty tight now.” 

“I’ve seen,” Waverly says, ignoring the self-deprecating nature of Nicole’s comment. “I’m really glad he has you. He deserves that. I tried to reach out, but I think it just drew more attention onto him and did more harm than good. But we’ve already established that you’re way braver than me.  _ Plus _ ,” she adds pointedly, “I know your comment is a total lie. You’re on two sports teams and I hear that Perry Crofte is trying to turn coach into a feminist so that you can play soccer. You’re plenty cool.”

“Excuse me,” Nicole quips, still very much joking around, “uncool and social outcast are not the same thing and not mutually dependent. I could theoretically be both cool and unpopular.” 

“Well I’m pretty sure you’re only the former. You’re basically friends with the whole basketball team now so I hear.”

Nicole considers this and supposes that she does get on well with everyone she trains with. She hadn’t really considered them friends in the way she thinks of Robin and Waverly though. They’re different. 

At this juncture in the conversation, Gus chooses to interject and effectively puts a stop to the whole debate. 

“Cool or uncool, can you girls please move your books and lay the table? This pasta won’t eat itself.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


An hour or so later, and after having eaten an unspeakable amount of spaghetti, both Nicole and Waverly are excused to do as they please. Normally, they put their free time to something laid back, but tonight they sit in Waverly’s room, both cross-legged on their own bed and facing each other directly.

Nicole sifts through an enormous pile of handwritten flashcards, and Waverly waits nervously for Nicole to start testing her. 

“Do you really need to know  _ all _ these dates and facts?” Nicole asks in disbelief, skim-reading the cards as she effectively shuffles them to make the test harder and more random.

“I mean, probably not all of them but I’m trying to cover all my bases.” 

“What does that not surprise me?” Nicole says with a grin.

“I thought you were supposed to be  _ helping _ ,” Waverly points out with a haughty sigh as she squares her shoulders.

“I am but I didn’t say no teasing. That’s my price, I’ve just decided now.” 

“ _ Nicole _ .” 

“Waverly.”

“Come on let’s just get this over with. I feel bad you’re giving up your evening as it is,” Waverly says, affecting a fake little whine to get her point across.

“Yeah I’m really cancelling a ton of wild plans to help my friend out.” 

“Aww, you just called me your friend. That’s never happened before,” Waverly trills, looking very pleased at this development. It makes Nicole’s heart jump slightly, and she finds she has to work to keep from tripping over her words.

“It’s not like it’s cropped up to say before,” she says with a shrug. “Doesn’t mean it’s a new development.” 

At this, Waverly’s smile only grows and Nicole’s chest flutters once more. She finds herself grinning back at Waverly and feeling faintly ridiculous as she does so. 

“Uh, dude, this is the part where you reciprocate,” Nicole adds, feeling suddenly strangely insecure. 

Waverly throws up her hands in a gesture of exasperation that Nicole was not expecting. 

“Oh my God of  _ course  _ you’re my friend you big idiot.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


After Nicole gets her heart rate back under control (and studiously avoids dwelling on the fact that she is forced to do so in the first place), she finally sets about quizzing Waverly who, predictably, rattles off almost every answer perfectly. 

She hesitates, however, when Nicole ad libs slightly (“name four outcomes of the Yalta Conference”) and although Nicole would bet money on Waverly knowing many more than just four, the other girl simply loses momentum. It’s nearing eight o’clock and they are both tired. 

“Okay my mind really has gone blank,” she states after thinking for a moment or two. “Tell me.” 

Nicole quirks an eyebrow. “You’re not even gonna try? I can give clues. Like, for example, what did Stalin promise to do after victory in Europe?”

“Fight against Japan?” Waverly tries, voice uncertain, and Nicole nods. 

“See? You’re good. Hold on let me think of another clue.” 

“Seriously, just tell me the answers and we’ll call it a night. I’m beat anyway,” Waverly insists. 

Nicole, however, pretends to keep reviewing the card. When she makes no moves to tell Waverly the answer, Waverly says,

“Nicole, seriously. I’m bored and I bet you are too. Let’s watch a movie now before bed.”

Then, after another pause, she grins and says,

“ _ Nicole _ . Don’t make me come over there.” 

Nicole laughs. “You don’t scare me Earp.” 

At this, Waverly leans forward and tries to grab the cards from Nicole.

“Okay  _ child _ , I’m taking my cards back now.”

Nicole, however, has good reflexes and lifts the cards out of the way just in time. 

Waverly gives a cry of protest and gets off her bed to collect her notes. Nicole still tries to dodge her, until the whole thing turns into an impromptu scuffle atop Nicole’s bed. 

Waverly goes to snatch the cards away, and - just for the sake of it - Nicole clutches them closer. 

In a turn of events she does not quite follow, she finds herself laying on her side with her body curled inwards to better protect her prize as Waverly tackles her and attempts to reclaim what is, admittedly, rightfully hers. 

At some point during the fight, Waverly ends up balanced precariously on the outer slice of Nicole’s bed, not realising that Nicole is painfully ticklish as she attempts to wrestle the cards back.

It quickly becomes clear that neither girl wants the cards especially badly, they simply do not want to be the losing party. 

Nicole squirms as Waverly’s fingers make accidental contact with her waist - a spot that is particularly sensitive - and Waverly seems to work out that Nicole is ticklish. At this realisation she doubles down on her assault, looming over Nicole and at genuine risk of toppling down onto her. 

Eventually this outcome becomes an inevitability, and Waverly shrieks as, for the briefest of seconds, Nicole knows the feel of Waverly sprawled out across her. For just a moment Nicole is enveloped in the slight, gentle weight of Waverly’s body, in the softness of her skin, in the smell of her hair as it fans out between them. 

She feels the way Waverly’s body shakes as she laughs, and Nicole finds herself laughing too. 

On instinct Waverly immediately rolls off Nicole, misjudging the space on the bed available to her and almost falling to the floor in the process.

Nicole, somewhat more spatially aware in the moment, manages to avert tragedy by grabbing onto Waverly’s shirt and scooting back against the wall. Assisted by Waverly’s not insignificant core strength, she manages to pull Waverly away from the precipice.

“Shit,” Waverly says, breathless from laughter, “sorry. Did I hurt you?” 

“Well, put it this way,” Nicole replies, noting a dull pain in her hip where it had clacked against Waverly’s. It is insignificant and will probably have faded by morning if not before, “I’ll live.”

“Then you should have given me my cards,” Waverly protests with a pout, and Nicole notes for the first time that she is still holding the offending stationery. Finally, she relinquishes the flashcards to their rightful owner and Waverly, seemingly now disinterested in them, reaches behind her and drops them on Nicole’s still mostly bare nightstand.

Nicole expects her to move after this, but instead Waverly simply stays put. A moment later, she stretches out indulgently in a gesture that highlights to Nicole just how close together they are. One of Waverly’s legs is flush against Nicole, and she has her head pressed close to Nicole’s shoulder. 

After a while, Waverly gives a contented little sigh and says,

“I know I have to move but I’m so comfy right now that I really can’t be bothered. You’re  _ so _ warm.”

“You don’t have to, you’re fine,” Nicole murmurs back, surprised at just how easy and natural it feels to be beside Waverly like this. There is something soft in the girl’s presence that soothes Nicole somehow, and she is in no hurry to push Waverly away.

More than that, this is the first time she has been so physically close to another person in this particular way in a long time, since Shae in fact. 

Of course, she has had other people in her space since the breakup, often in the most juxtaposing of ways. She has had contact during sports, and of course she has accepted hugs from people but this is so very different. This is unhurried and peaceful, and it feels completely natural. 

In fact, Nicole had not realised until now just how much she had missed physical intimacy - physical  _ touch _ \- with another person, and not necessarily in any explicitly sexual sense. She has missed easy, simple closeness, the feel of another person’s even breathing moving their body like a wave. She has missed the way it feels to drift and doze in another person’s presence, time completely malleable and meaningless in the minimal space between two bodies. 

Silence sits between them for what must be five, ten, and then fifteen minutes and just when Nicole is starting to feel a modicum of doubt slip through, Waverly shuffles around a bit and asks,

“Shall we watch something?” 

“Sure,” Nicole says, expecting Waverly to move to her own bed and use the little television opposite her. The screen faces Waverly’s pillow square on, but if Nicole lays a certain way on her own bed, she can just about see as well. 

Instead, however, Waverly reaches down to the ground in the space between the beds and picks up Nicole’s laptop. She hands it over for Nicole to unlock the machine before taking it back so that she can put the family’s Netflix details into Nicole’s browser. 

They make a selection at random, and Nicole shifts onto her back so that they can balance the laptop more evenly across their legs. 

The night passes by like that, neither of them talking or even moving until the movie is over and it is time to go to sleep. 

Nicole’s bed feels cold and strangely large when she gets back in after changing into her pyjamas and brushing her teeth, Waverly already burrowed into her own bed under a veritable nest of blankets. 

Nicole switches the light out on her way back to bed, and notes the way her pillow still smells like Waverly’s hair. 

The scent eases her into sleep, and she dreams of Waverly until the dawn. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“Are you  _ sure _ ?” Waverly asks. “Like, sure sure?” 

Nicole laughs. “Yes I’m  _ totally _ sure I’m not coming to the football game. But you get going or I’ll make you late.” 

A week has passed since their impromptu wrestling match, and Waverly is standing in the living room, already decked out in her cheerleading outfit and looking unfairly pretty with her carefully curled hair and light, family-accepted makeup. 

Nicole, meanwhile, is curled on the couch in her sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. She has absolutely no intention of going out tonight. It is her first Friday excused from the supervision of Gus at Shorty’s bar since her arrival here, and although she has no plans for rebellion, she is more than happy to be solely under Wynonna’s care which, she assumes, means she will be left entirely to her own devices. 

The elder Earp sister is sprawled in a nearby armchair, flicking between channels on the TV and very obviously listening in to the conversation. 

“I thought you liked sports,” Waverly points out, and Nicole sees now that the other girl is trying to give her the hard sell.

“I do, but I’m not super fussed about football and besides, I don’t have anyone to go with.”

Waverly makes a great show of looking offended, before gesturing at her herself pointedly.

“Uh, you’d be going with  _ me _ ?” 

“Yeah, and then you’d be straight off to fulfil all your head cheerleader duties. So I’d be hanging around on my own for the majority of the night. Plus I literally don’t have a dollar to my name, so some night that’ll be. Honestly, I’m happy here. You go and I’ll just see you when you get back. You can tell me all about it - give me a blow by blow account of the game.”

For the briefest of moments, Waverly looks disappointed and it surprises Nicole. For as close as they are becoming, school is a whole different beast. Nicole momentarily contemplates changing her mind, but she has made a convincing argument and Waverly seems to accept it.

"I think we all know I can't," she says wryly, and Nicole does not retort.

For someone who's in charge of leading cheers, Waverly does know precious little about almost every sport that isn't ice skating or gymnastics, and even then her knowledge is patchy. 

"Okay, well, I'll see you in a couple of hours," she says, still looking a little sad as she heads out to meet Curtis in the truck. 

"Wow, you really  _ are  _ smart," Wynonna pipes up once it is just them in the house. Gus is at Shorty's and Curtis will be joining her after he has dropped Waverly back off at school. "Those games suck, you're much better off here."

Nicole shrugs. "I already see enough of Champ Hardy and his idiot friends in Phys Ed, I don't need to see him playing football and milking the attention for all it's worth after hours."

"Very,  _ very  _ smart," Wynonna says approvingly. "I don't know what my sister is even doing giving that lot the time of day. She's worth a million of each of them."

"No arguments from me on the latter," Nicole remarks, "but I think hanging out with them in school is easy, you know? Path of least resistance and all that. It's not like she's rushing to see them outside of school."

In actual fact, discounting the diner encounter, Nicole has only known Waverly to willingly hang out with anyone but Chrissy in her free time on three occasions, and this included the occurrence on Nicole's first full day in Purgatory. 

"Fair point," Wynonna concedes. "Still don't get it though. Waverly would be way better off hanging out with you."

"I agree," Nicole says, happy both at the idea and at Wynonna's seal of approval. 

A minute or two later, however, the moment is gone when Wynonna says, 

"So, are you going to fuck off so we can both have an evening to ourselves or?" 

"Aren't you supposed to be supervising me?" 

"Haught, not even my uncle believes that's gonna happen so go on. Knock yourself out doing absolutely nothing with your Friday night."

Nicole does not need to be told twice.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freedom, as Nicole quickly discovers, is not necessarily what she had hyped it up to be.

It feels odd to be alone in Waverly's room, and she feels more like an intruder than ever. 

With very little to do, she quickly elects to text Dolls to ask him to call her if he's free. 

He obliges within ten minutes, and soon Nicole is realising just how much she has missed hearing his voice. 

Mostly, however, he just listens, which is really just typical Dolls.

Their friendship is sometimes an odd thing, because neither of them is especially prone to talking about themselves. With each other, however, there seems to be some kind of deeper understanding. 

Before Nicole has even uttered a 'hello' he says,

“Okay, tell me everything.”

Quite without any thought Nicole finds herself obliging. She tells him all about the remoteness of the location, about the farm ( _ ‘I rode a horse, I can’t believe I gave in so easy _ ’), and her classes and Steph and Champ and all the other shitty kids in the grade ( _ ‘they’re terrible. Like, indescribably terrible and mean just for the sake of it _ ’). She tells him about Robin and his dad, about basketball, and, of course, about Waverly. 

“She’s actually really nice. I didn’t think she would be, to be honest. I thought she’d be some snooty, popular, country good girl. And yes she’s popular, and okay kind of a good girl too, but she’s not like the rest of them - she’s really sweet and smart and kind. She’s - ”

“Okay,” Dolls interjects, chuckling to himself, and Nicole realises she must be going a mile a minute to fill him in. “Hold your horses - real or metaphorical. This is the daughter of your current guardians right?”

“Niece,” Nicole corrects.

“Oh yeah, right. Sorry.”

“I mean, it kind of seems like she’s as good as a daughter though. Both of them are.”

“And I take it the one in your grade is the roommate.” 

“Waverly, yes,” Nicole confirms. 

“The sweet and smart and kind one,” Dolls states, and Nicole wonders what he is getting at. 

“Is that what I said?”

“Sure is. So you’re getting on then?”

“Yeah, much better than I thought we would.”

“And is there anything else I should know?” Dolls asks, and although it sounds innocent enough, Nicole senses that he must have an agenda. 

“Like what?” 

“Is there something else going on between the two of you? Or just friends?”

“With  _ Waverly _ ?” Nicole exclaims. “God no, she’s straight. And she doesn’t have a clue I’m not. Plus, and most importantly, she’s related to the guy who’s supposed to be reforming me.” 

Nicole says this all in a rush, determined that she does not dwell on the topic longer than necessary. She feels oddly averse to Dolls’ question, and is almost happy when, a little while later, she hears a car pull up to the house.

“I think this might be Curtis,” Nicole says to Dolls. “I’m still not sure whether I’m supposed to be talking to anyone from home, so I’d better go.” 

“Okay,” Dolls replies, tone understanding. “Well, it was great to talk to you, and to hear you’re as okay as you can be. Let’s try not to leave it a month until the next time, yeah?”

“Definitely not.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go before you get caught. Oh, and I still haven’t forgotten our plan.” 

With this, Dolls awaits her ‘goodbye’ before quickly hanging up. 

A moment later, Nicole hears footsteps on the stairs and is surprised when it is not Gus or Curtis who checks on her, but instead Waverly who enters the room. Nicole had not expected her back until curfew, which today is apparently midnight, but she seems to have come home early. 

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” Nicole remarks lightly, taking Waverly in as she steps inside. 

She has changed out of her blue cheerleading uniform and into a longer black denim skirt, tights, and a burgundy top. Her neat curls have dropped out a little bit, but her makeup has more or less stayed in place. She looks very pretty. 

“A lot of the others went to a party at someone’s house,” Waverly says, keeping her voice low. “But Chrissy had to go home after the game and she’s the only one who would have dropped me back here for midnight, so I called Gus and Curtis for a ride. Apparently Shorty has the bar covered because they’re staying here.”

Nicole nods. “And how was it? The game?” 

“Yeah, fine. Our team did good, as did the cheerleaders,” Waverly says, trying for a smile, but something seems a little off. She pulls her tights down without moving her skirt and tosses them carelessly at the foot of her bed. 

“You sure?” Nicole asks, watching Waverly’s face carefully. “Did something happen while you were out?” 

“Yeah,” Waverly says.

For a moment Nicole is not entirely sure which question Waverly is answering. 

“Once we’d all changed after the game, a few of us were hanging out,” Waverly explains absently, mind obviously elsewhere. “And Champ stepped off to the side and asked if we could talk. I don’t know if I was expecting it by that point or not, but yeah, he asked me on a date.” 

Nicole feels her stomach flip, and her reaction puzzles her a little bit. She is not sure why the thought of Champ asking Waverly out - which, honestly, has felt like a foregone conclusion for a while - should generate  _ any _ reaction in her. Probably it is because Waverly deserves so much more. 

She pauses for a moment, trying to work out how Waverly herself feels about this development. 

“And?” Nicole asks when Waverly does not go to speak again.

“And what?”

“Well,” Nicole says, “what did you say? You’re not seriously going to go are you?” 

She doesn’t mean for her question to come out with quite so much scorn, and she regrets it instantly, but what’s done is done and, well, it  _ is _ Champ Hardy they are talking about. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing, just that you’ve kinda said in the past that he’s been a dick to you.” 

“People can change Nicole,” Waverly points out testily and Nicole knows they are walking dangerous ground now. “Besides, why shouldn’t I go?” Waverly asks, sounding guarded. “He likes me. And like Steph said, no one else seems to.” 

Nicole furrows her brow, confused at the way their conversation from a few weeks ago seems to have been forgotten now that Champ has made his move.

“Okay, but do you like him? Is him liking you a good enough reason?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Waverly asks, sounding snappier and more defensive now.

“No, nothing. It’s just that you deserve to go out with someone you actually like back, that’s all.”

“What’s to say I don’t like him back?” Waverly challenges, but they both know

Nicole cannot stop a little snigger at that. “The fact you’ve heavily implied the opposite. Also you’re a smart person?”

She had meant it as a joke, but she knows the moment the words leave her mouth that they aren’t going to land well. Sure enough, a dangerous look passes across Waverly’s face.

“You know you aren’t better than  _ everyone _ else here, right? I know we’ve established that you’ve worked out that I’m not a country stereotype, but you don’t have to be totally overbearing about my friends all the time. Would it have been too much to just let me have this?” 

The comment shocks Nicole as though Waverly has actively struck her across the face. She thought they had been through all this already and cannot understand why Waverly is rehashing it now. 

“Waverly, we’ve talked about this. I never said that. I’ve never even  _ thought _ that. Just because I don’t personally get on with y-” 

“Please. I’ve been here before. It’s what all of you people think,” Waverly snaps, narrowing her eyes. 

Nicole scoffs, trying not to show that this particular comment had stung her, just as a similar implication had stung in the diner weeks before.

“All of  _ us _ people? What does that even mean?” Nicole counters, deliberately mimicking Waverly’s tone and question from a few moments before. She watches as Waverly’s eyes go wide as, presumably, she realises what she has said. She puts a hand over her mouth as it forms a shocked little ‘o’.

“No, Nicole I’m s- I really didn’t mean th-”

But this time, Nicole is angry. She is upset. Because they have been here already and Waverly had assured her that she didn’t think badly of Nicole because of her past. And now, after they have found their footing as friends, Waverly has begun to  _ mean  _ something. Waverly is important and her opinion is important too. But when all is said and done, she thinks the same of Nicole as everyone else always has done. And if Waverly thinks it, then maybe that really  _ is _ all she’ll ever be. 

If this is how it feels when she cares about someone, then having no one to care about really  _ was _ the better option. 

“What didn’t you mean, Waverly?” Nicole asks coldly. “You didn’t mean all  _ us _ people? All us lowlife kids from shitty homes? All us kids who skip school or end up with behavioural problems because no one in our family ever gave two shits about us? At least I was  _ trying _ . You might not like having me here but guess what? I never  _ asked _ to be taken away from my home and my school and my friends. I can’t help the fact that no one ever really cared about me so they sent me here. But I never fucking  _ judged _ you or your family for where you’re from. And maybe some of the other kids you had here did judge, but don’t project those insecurities on me. Maybe I judged the likes of Stephanie and Champ but that’s because they’re bullies, and where they’re from won’t change the fact that they’re mean and awful to people like me and Robin. And okay maybe I could still have been nice about them, but I never judged you, or Wynonna, or Chrissy...or anyone who’s shown me kindness.” 

“I know that, I really do. Nicole, I’m s-”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for trying to tell you deserved the best; whatever or whoever made you happy. I’m sorry for being one of  _ those people _ who had a shit start. I’d have thought you of all people would have understood.” 

With that accusation, an accusation that Nicole never wanted to throw at someone so good and kind and special as Waverly, she turns on her heel and leaves the room. She decides it is for the best; she might as well cut it clean before either of them can hurt more than they already are. 

“Nicole, it’s getting dark, you can’t - ”

“I’m going for a run. You’re not going to stop me.” 

She storms down the stairs, picking up her sneakers and walking out the house. She thinks she hears Gus and Curtis calling after her but she ignores them, knowing there will be hell to pay when -  _ if _ \- she comes back. 

It is tempting to start running and simply never turn back. 

  
  
  
  


After she had been running for what must have been half an hour, she has to concede that she is well and truly lost. It is pitch black out, and she hadn’t even been in the frame of mind to grab her phone on her way out. 

It was foolish of her, but she had needed to put distance between herself and the argument.

It had been a stupid thing to fight over, and Nicole is furious that such a serious argument had started over someone as inconsequential as Champ Hardy. 

More than that, it forces Nicole to confront an uncomfortable truth about her feelings for Waverly, because a concerned friend would not have felt Waverly’s decision to go on a date with some dumb boy as a pain in their chest or a twist in their stomach. A friend would have been confused, worried even, but not upset. Not  _ jealous _ .

But Nicole was filled with jealousy at the thought of Waverly potentially picking Champ Hardy, and there was only one reason why anyone would feel like that.

She had known it for a while, but she had tried to keep herself safe from it. She didn’t want to fall for her straight friend - if she and Waverly were even still friends - and she didn’t want to fall for the niece of the guy who’d been officially ordered to take her in and rehabilitate her like the fixer-upper that she seemed to be in everyone’s eyes. 

But Waverly had wormed her way into Nicole’s heart without even knowing it. She was kind and funny and smart; she was driven and passionate and breathtakingly beautiful. And for a while, she had seemed to see through all of Nicole’s past bad decisions. 

Now, however, Nicole wasn’t sure that Waverly had ever viewed her as more than another one of her uncle’s projects. The thought hurts Nicole more than she could say, and it reminds her of why she had tried to keep herself detached when she first arrived in Alberta.

She was better off when she  _ knew _ she had no one but Dolls. She had let herself believe Waverly cared about her, even as a friend, but the way she had said those words,  _ you people _ , made Nicole doubt every instinct she had ever felt about the other girl.

Deep down, she knows they were both just speaking in the heat of the moment and that they had felt so impassioned because the stakes were high for them both - they had grown so close and it seemed to matter a lot - but it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Eventually, however, Nicole realises she cannot stay out any longer. 

Whether she wants to believe it or not, everyone back at the house will be worried. What she is doing could be pretty unsafe. 

She turns back and jogs in exactly the direction she came, hoping she can remember all the twists and turns she took on her way out. Eventually, she sees the lights from the ranch in the distance, and the little knot of worry loosens in her belly. Everything else is going to suck, but at least she won’t be out in the wilderness with the coyotes and the bears all night. 

She lets herself in through the back door, doing her level best to be quiet and slip inside unheard, but of course Curtis and Gus are waiting for her. Besides, the whole house creaks when its inhabitants so much as breathe too loudly, so she never stood a chance at making a stealthy reentry. 

She has barely put one toe past the threshold when, sounding angry, she hears Gus’ voice calling her from the living room. Sighing to herself, she stops to take her shoes off, glad at least of the heat of the house after the icy cold evening air on her skin. 

Feeling sheepish, she steps towards the living room and hovers at the doorway. Gus and Curtis are sat side-by-side on the couch

“Well,” Gus prompts sternly, “don’t stand on ceremony. You live here, don’t you?” 

“Sit down, Nicole,” Curtis says, voice tight and only slightly more gentle than his wife’s. 

Nicole sits on the very edge of the nearest armchair. 

“Well?” Gus repeats, but this time it is a question. She does not go so far as to add  _ what do you have to say for yourself, _ but the wording is heavily implied. 

“I’m sorry,” Nicole says, looking at her knees. She feels bad at having disappointed Gus and Curtis after such a long streak without incident. “I needed some space.” 

She leaves the explanation at that; deliberately vague. She knows there is no way Gus and Curtis could have missed the raised voices coming from Waverly’s room earlier, but she is not about to drop Waverly in it and get her in trouble too,

“You’re  _ allowed _ space, Nicole.” Gus says, exasperated in the way of someone who cares. It makes the lump in Nicole’s throat worse. “But you can’t just run off into the night like that. It’s dangerous out here.”

“I know. I didn’t think. I won’t do it again.” 

“You didn’t even have your cell phone. It’s still in Waverly’s room.”

“I know. I only realised once I was outside.”

“Anything could have happened to you.”

“I  _ know _ .”

“We didn’t have a clue when you’d even come back.”

“I’ve  _ said _ I’m sorry,” Nicole snaps, brushing angrily at a tear that trickles hot down her cheek. She never cared when her parents hated her, because they always seemed to hate her for one thing or another. But having Curtis and Gus treat her like this sucks. “And I've told you I won’t do it again. I don’t know what more I can do.” 

“Waverly told us what happened,” Curtis explains, sounding calmer than Gus.

“Oh great. So you know she hates me as much as you two do right now.” 

The words slip out unbidden, and the shock on the adults’ face is impossible to miss.

“No one in this house even close to hates you, Nicole.” 

“She does,” Nicole says, jerking her head up to indicate upstairs and refer to Waverly. Even as she says this, however, she knows it is not true. She knows Waverly doesn’t hate her any more than she, Nicole, hates Waverly for what happened. It was just an argument. They were bound to have another one at some point.

“Waverly is pretty distraught right about now. She thought something terrible was going to happen and it would be all her fault,” Curtis explains frankly. “She told us what she said, and we’ve had a talk with her about why it was a stupid, insensitive thing to say. But for what it’s worth I don’t think she needed to hear it from us. I think she knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth.” 

“I know,” Nicole says hollowly, thinking that it was obvious that the family would close ranks.

“This is not me speaking in her defense. This is me saying I understand why you’re upset, and that you needed to take some time away, but next time you need to tell us where you’re going and when you’ll be back. Next time, please stay around the farm, okay? We want you safe. No one hates you. No one is even angry at you.” 

Nicole eyes Gus pointedly.

“Nicole I was worried  _ sick _ about you,” Gus says, her own eyes looking watery now. “We know you don’t want to believe we care, we know it makes you feel vulnerable, but we  _ do _ care about you. Very much. I sent Wynonna out in the truck half an hour ago to find you. We just wanted you back home safe.” 

At this, and at Gus’ use of the word ‘home’, a few more tears skate down Nicole’s face. She hastily wipes them away, blinking her eyes once, hard, to try and clear them. 

“I’m sorry,” she says again, quieter and more open now. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I didn’t think that y- ”

Abruptly, she stops herself. After all that Gus and Curtis have said, it seemed rude and ungrateful to admit that she had not believed that anyone would worry about her. She does her best to reword her statement. “I’m not used to people worrying about me. I’ll think more about it next time. I mean, not that there will be one.”

“If, when, you’re next upset over something,” Gus says kindly, “you’re  _ allowed _ to be. We just need to find a better way for you to get the space you need.” 

Nicole nods, still trying to banish her tears. “Okay. Thank you. I really am sorry.”

At this, both Gus and Curtis smile. 

“We know,” Curtis tells her softly. “We appreciate you being honest with us. And, if you feel up to it, I think there’s somebody else upstairs who might appreciate a frank conversation too.” 

Nicole feels her heart sink. She knows she has to face Waverly sooner rather than later, but feeling as emotional as she currently does, ‘later’ seems much more appealing. All the same, she nods glumly and drags her feet all the way upstairs. 

She is not sure what to really expect out of this interaction. She and Waverly have had minor disagreements over the past few months, but they have never really argued this deeply. She is not sure how Waverly resolves conflict, and she is not sure whether to brace herself for awkwardness or avoidance or anything other than direct resolution.

What she is not expecting, however, is to walk through the door and be met with Waverly in her arms, throwing herself into an embrace with surprising velocity, and gripping onto Nicole more tightly than either would ever believe possible. 

Nicole does not think she has ever known such an embrace in all her life. 

Waverly buries her face into Nicole’s neck, and all Nicole knows is the comforting warmth of Waverly pressed against her and the sweet smell of her hair and the hypnotic rhythm of her breathing. 

“I’m sorry,” Waverly says, voice high with tears and muffled against Nicole’s hoodie. “I’m so, so, so, so sorry.” 

Nicole feels the moment that Waverly starts crying, her whole body fighting wracking sobs as she tries to hold herself together.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nicole whispers, voice soothing as she rubs a hand slowly up and down Waverly’s back. “It’s all okay.” 

Waverly shakes her head against Nicole and finally pulls back. Her eyes are swollen and her cheeks are streaked with tears and still she is the most beautiful person on earth in Nicole’s eyes. 

“It’s not okay,” Waverly says. Wiping the back of her hand under her eye. “It’s really not okay.”

“Waves - ”

“I said the stupidest shit to you and I didn’t even mean it Nicole, I swear I didn’t.” 

What little composure Waverly had regained slips between her fingers and she starts crying again. Nicole is genuinely thrown by this response because it is even more intense than that of Gus or Curtis, and it is completely unexpected. Nicole has spent the past weeks here in Alberta thinking about everything this family has done for her and felt guilt, as though she has been a burden to them. She had not once believed that any connection was starting to run both ways, no matter what Gus had said the week before. 

“I know you didn’t mean it. God, I said stupid shit too. What I said as I left...I had no right to bring that up.”

“Yes you did,” Waverly manages to say between her little hiccoughing sobs. “And what’s more, what you said  _ was _ right. I know exactly how it feels to get left behind by your family and I just got luckier than so many kids because of Gus and Curtis. And I never once thought badly of you - or any of the other kids we took in - but you’re right; a lot of them judged me. And I knew exactly what you were  _ trying  _ to say - that you wanted me to be sure - but I went right to defence mode and lashed out. I snapped at you for being right about Champ, and for highlighting what I already know about the decision I made.” 

Waverly pauses and seems to realise that she has made her speech all in one breath. She takes a moment to collect herself. 

“I’m just really sorry. You went out and you were gone so long I thought I might never see you again. And it made me realise how you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, alongside Chrissy. And now you’ll probably hate me forever but, well, can you maybe forgive me? I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.” 

Waverly’s voice breaks at the end of the last sentence, and the strength of the emotion she seems to feel knocks Nicole for six. She has never felt the weight of someone else’s esteem in quite this way, and she still isn’t really sure what to  _ do _ with all of this, because life was simpler when she had almost no one but it was never, ever this beautiful. 

Having Waverly - and Gus and Curtis, and maybe even Wynonna - meant letting other people have her heart and it meant they could break it. It was a terrifying thought, but it was also exhilarating, and maybe, just maybe, this was what being alive  _ really _ felt like. 

It was certainly what being loved felt like. 

Maybe, Nicole realises, this is how she was always built to live, because this feels  _ right _ too. It is good to finally let herself reach out and acknowledge the depth of her emotions, to let herself admit that she feels deeply and that she  _ wants  _ to do so.

Nicole blinks back tears, before stepping forward and brushing Waverly’s cheeks dry with the pads of her thumbs. 

“Waverly, I could never, ever hate you. I forgave you before I even got back to the house, but will you forgive me too? Maybe you don’t think so, but I hate myself for what I said and how I reacted. I feel awful for worrying you, and Gus and Curtis too. I’ve never really...I mean,” Nicole pauses, taking a deep breath. “I’ve got friends at home, obviously I do, but I’ve never really let anyone in before because it’s just not something I knew how to do. You’re always going to be my best friend and this fight won’t mean anything in even five more minutes, let alone in the future. I’m just really sorry too.” 

Waverly opens her mouth a couple of times to try and speak, but cannot seem to make any sound. Eventually, tears still pouring down her cheeks and undoing all Nicole’s good work, she simply nods and holds her arms out for another hug. Nicole lets her bury against her once more and thinks how perfect it would be if they never had to let go. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sometime later, after what might have been minutes or hours or years, Waverly asks if they can do something together. 

“Even if it’s just watching a movie,” she says. “It probably sounds dumb but I just want to forget this ever happened. And watching movies is what we normally do. I want us to feel normal again.” 

They change into their pyjamas and spend the rest of their evening watching the  _ Ghostbusters  _ reboot, snuggled together for the second time in as many weeks, this time in the small space of Waverly’s bed. 

The closeness feels different from last time, although Nicole cannot pinpoint why. 

This time, Waverly dozes off right before the end credits roll, and Nicole knows she should tear herself away but she cannot seem to command her body to move. 

Instead, by the time she has contemplated extricating herself for a few moments, she starts to feel her own leaden eyelids drift shut. Before long, she is drifting too, and she falls asleep to the sound of Waverly’s soft, peaceful breathing, and to the feel of their bodies pressed tight together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is my last fanfic update of 2019. Of the decade, in fact. I think I probably started actively uploading back in 2008, which was a little before the start of the decade, but it's been the 2010s that have seen me not actively abandoning multi-chapters, as well as letting myself share sapphic fanfic because, well, I came out in this decade. 
> 
> I like to think I've improved a little since my days of writing for Harry Potter and obscure-ish British shows, but I have had 10 whole years of writing to help with that. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading even just a sentence of my fanfics in 2019, and any other year of the decade. I always write, but I don't think I'd keep posting without the confidence boosts your kind comments provide. I have other fics planned (and realistically want to upload a Christmas Wayhaught fic ASAP that I just couldn't finish in time) so don't see 2020 being the year I stop writing fanfic (but I am going to try and write a book this year - want to start the decade off right). Either way, I'll be back with Chapter 9 of this fic next year (yes, I am _that_ person). 
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy happy, fun, and safe New Year's celebrations and, if you have a moment during all the festivities, I would hugely appreciate hearing your thoughts on this chapter, or on the fic so far. 
> 
> Much love for 2020, and as always, take care.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, happy new year! Let's hope 2020 is epic for all of us. 
> 
> Thank you all SO much for your kind comments on the last chapter. It really means so much more than I can say.
> 
> I really hope you like this follow up. It's another emotional rollercoaster for both Waverly and Nicole, but in somewhat different ways (to each other, and to the previous chapter). 
> 
> P.S. the thing Nicole wins for Waverly is the knock off version of [this](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/S/aplus-media/vc/6cc52b46-99ae-4144-b396-fd1f8f5fbc22._CR0,0,300,400_PT0_SX300__.jpg). I think of it whenever I think of the dipped doughnuts thing.

In spite of all the drama that ensued the night before, Waverly still goes on her date with Champ. 

She seems to think that, because she agreed at the time, she is now beholden to follow through on her promise. 

Apparently, the plan is for the two of them to go together to some kind of fall festival type thing which, so far as Nicole understands it, is basically a small provincial fair with a carnival. There seems to be some sort of Halloween element to it, along with stereotypical fairground games and produce contests. It all seems very twee, and Nicole would be amused by it if Waverly wasn’t so nervous about going. 

After they eat lunch, she makes Nicole sit with her in the bedroom, in order to assess a wide variety of outfits for their suitability for the occasion. 

“I’m just thinking that I don’t really want him getting the wrong idea,” Waverly says as she examines herself from every angle in a full-length mirror. She is wearing the same tights and black denim skirt as she did yesterday, with a different t-shirt and a warm, fluffy cardigan. “Do you think this skirt is too short?” 

Nicole thinks to start on some commentary about how the length of a girl’s skirt doesn’t mean anything, but then decides against it at the last minute. Waverly already knows this stuff, but the knowing isn’t always totally practical when it comes to spending time unsupervised with boys like Champ. 

In the end Nicole says, “no, I think it looks nice, but if you don’t feel comfortable then there’s other options.” 

Waverly switches out the outfit a few times, trying on jeans but ultimately worrying that they are too tight and too suggestive as a result. 

“At least the skirt is a bit looser,” she says, putting it back on for the third time. 

Her whole concern seems to be about dressing in a way that doesn’t look as though she has expended any effort, not in an attempt to win Champ’s affections but to divert them instead. 

“This is so dumb,” she says with a groan, now wearing the precise same skirt and top as she started out with. “You were so right last night, I don’t even like him. The thought of this whole thing makes me anxious, and the thought of him liking me is the worst part of it all. It makes me feel weird, like I don’t want his attention on me.” 

“I honestly think you should just cancel,” Nicole says seriously, actually kind of worried about Waverly going off with Champ alone. There is something about him that sets off all sorts of alarms in Nicole’s head, and instinctively she doesn’t like the idea of no one else being around when he is with Waverly. 

She knows she shouldn’t be overbearing and paternalistic about it, because Waverly is a smart, capable person, but Nicole also doesn’t put a whole lot of stock in boys like Champ Hardy either. 

“I can’t,” Waverly says, shaking her head. “I told him I’d go and I’d feel like an ass cancelling. I’ll just go and see what happens, then I don’t have to say ‘yes’ to any more dates if I still feel like I don’t like him.” 

“Well,” Nicole replies, quirking an eyebrow in a knowing expression, “just make sure you  _ do _ say ‘no’ if that’s what you want. I know what you’re like. You don’t owe him anything, just remember that.” 

Waverly nods, a little smile creeping through the haze of worry on her face. “Thanks.” 

“And don’t forget our plan.”

Waverly’s smile grows a little wider. “I won’t.” 

Their pre-agreed plan of action is a remarkably uninventive, stereotypical one, but there is probably a reason it has stood the test of time so well. 

If things are going badly, or if at any time Waverly is worried, she is to text Nicole, who will call her immediately, pretending to be Gus demanding that Waverly come home. Nicole will then tell either Wynonna or one of the adults, and they will drive out to the festival. If they have to fall back on the idea, it will probably end up being extremely obvious what is happening, but neither girl cares. It is good to have that contingency in place. 

“I hope it’s not awful,” Waverly says after a moment of silence. “I love the fall festival - almost as much as the Christmas one - and it’ll suck if it’s all I can associate it with in the future is a bad date.”

“I mean, it’s totally up to you but if you want, we could ask your aunt and uncle if we could go sometime? It’s still on tomorrow and next week right?” 

At this, Waverly’s face lights up. 

“That’d be so cool! I think you’d really like it. There’s fun rides and you can get the funnel cake even if I can’t. I’m sure Gus and Curtis will say yes because it’s something new for you to do, and since we did as we were told at the diner, they have no reason not to.” 

Thinking back to her impromptu night-time run yesterday, Nicole is not quite so sure. She cannot yet say whether this has damaged the McCready’s trust in her, and supposes only time will tell. 

“Well, let’s see if we need to go - I don’t want things to be bad today and give you any negative associations we need to fix.” 

“Oh,” Waverly says, waving a hand dismissively, almost as if she had totally forgotten about having to go out with Champ in a few short moments. “I’d much rather go with you. Let’s go either way.” 

At this, she starts piling a few things - a hairbrush, wallet, and small makeup bag - into a faux-leather satchel. Almost as soon as she finishes, the girls hear Curtis calling upstairs that they will need to leave if Waverly is to make it to the fair on time. 

“Coming!” she calls down, before turning to Nicole. “Wish me luck?” she asks gently.

“Good luck,” Nicole says immediately. She wants to add ‘ _ not that you need it _ ’ but something tells her this is not true. Champ is terrible, and even if he stays respectful, Nicole cannot imagine that the conversation will flow easily between him and Waverly. 

For some reason, she stands up as if she is going to see Waverly out, and at the last moment Waverly steps up to hug Nicole goodbye. 

Hugging Waverly seems to be something that is growing more normal, even as she still does not think she will ever be used to it. She cannot see how she could ever take for granted the sweet feeling of Waverly in her arms. In the back of her mind she just hopes that Champ does right by Waverly.

Probably, the big dumb idiot doesn’t have the first clue the immense privilege he has been given. Probably, he would not care even if he could understand. Nicole has observed Champ watching Waverly, and it has not been pretty. He looks hungry and carnal and oppressive in a way that Nicole despises. 

Waverly, however, has not - to Nicole’s knowledge - ever caught Champ with this look on his face. She simply knows he is a bit of a jackass which is, honestly, the biggest understatement ever. 

Nicole does not say any of this to Waverly as they traipse downstairs, because based on the events of last night it is not what Waverly needs to hear. Instead, Waverly just needs her support. 

Reading between the lines, Nicole understands that Waverly already knows she is making the wrong choice, and is defensive and embarrassed at being confronted with it. All Nicole can do is hope that this doesn’t go any further than this one date, all the while studiously ignoring the fact that she has allowed such a thought to cross her mind at all.

The ugly pit of jealousy broiling in her belly says more than enough to Nicole about how she feels in all of this, even though she knows she has no right to begrudge Waverly accepting dates with whomsoever she chooses. It’s not like Nicole is ever going to admit to Waverly that she is gay, let alone that she is developing feelings for her, so it would be unfair to want to hold Waverly back from dating anyone else.

And although she suspects that Waverly dating anyone at all would smart a bit, she knows it is all the worse  _ because _ the person in question is Champ Hardy.

So, she keeps quiet as she waits for Waverly to put her boots on at the door, even going as far as holding onto her bag and letting Waverly steady herself with a hand on Nicole’s shoulder.

“What are you gonna do for the afternoon?” Waverly asks.

Nicole shrugs the shoulder Waverly is not borrowing. “Dunno. Probably just homework since I didn’t do it last night.” 

Waverly groans. “Yeah, I’ll have to do mine tomorrow now, or later today when I get back.” 

This is outside of the girls’ usual routine, and it is odd for them not to have a completely free weekend, because they are normally forced to do all their assignments on Friday night at Shorty’s bar. 

Nicole, however, is thankful that she will have a distraction while Waverly is out. Not only does she not want to sit and worry, she also does not want to have thinking space to sit and picture what Waverly and Champ might do together at the carnival. That, Nicole decides, is a form of self-torture that is simply a step too far. 

As a result she is happy, once she has seen Waverly off, to sit herself down at the kitchen table with her books. 

As ever, Gus is in the room cooking. She welcomes Nicole in, and seems pleased that Nicole has elected to do her homework without any prompting at all. 

Nicole asks if she can join Gus, and before she has even opened her journal she finds herself presented with the ubiquitous cup and tea and plate of cookies. 

Before Nicole really settles in to work Gus says, out of nowhere,

“We’ve told Waverly she has to meet one of us by half past seven. Normally curfew is at midnight, but I think this situation is a little different, don’t you?” 

A little nonplussed at being asked for her opinion, Nicole hesitates before eventually saying,

“Yeah, it probably is different. That seems fair.” 

“I have to admit,” Gus goes on, “I was a little surprised to hear that Waverly had chosen to go out with the Hardy boy.” 

_ You and me both _ , Nicole thinks. She does not say this aloud, however, and simply hums to let Gus know she is listening. 

“Have you had much to do with him?” Gus asks. 

“Not really,” Nicole answers vaguely. “I don’t think we’re really compatible people. I see him in my Phys Ed class and that’s about it.”

She doesn’t say that she does her best to steer clear of Champ, but she thinks her tone might imply the sentiment anyway. 

“Hmm,” Gus murmurs, and she sounds disproving but does not go so far as to say as much. 

Nicole starts on her homework without continuing the conversation. It strikes her as strange that Gus has chosen to speak to Nicole - and not Curtis or Waverly - about Champ Hardy, and she is unsure what she should really say about the whole thing. 

She can hardly tell Gus that she thinks Champ is a total asshole, and she is sure the woman will worry if Nicole implies that she does not think Hardy can be trusted. 

After about half an hour, Gus inexplicably picks up the conversation again. 

“I at least hope that Waverly will be sensible about it all.” 

This takes Nicole aback. Surely, she thinks, Gus  _ knows _ how smart Waverly is.

“I think she’s the most sensible person I’ve met,” Nicole points out. “I’m sure she’s knows what Champ’s like.” 

At this, Gus pauses and studies Nicole carefully, and she realises she has said too much. 

“I mean - ”

“No, no,” Gus interrupts softly. “You’re right.”

She looks worried, however, and Nicole realises she is not the only concerned about this date. It also clicks that Gus probably knows that the worst thing would have been to tell Waverly that she is not allowed to do something at all. 

“It’ll be fine,” Nicole says eventually and Gus smiles, at least managing to look a little more genuine than before. 

“You’re a good kid,” she murmurs, before focussing back in on her cooking and letting Nicole get on with her work. 

The afternoon passes them by, and soon the sky outside grows dark. Nicole works, and tries not to think about Waverly spending time with Champ. 

Not thinking about Waverly is becoming a progressively harder task as the days and weeks pass, but Nicole does not want to fixate on what might be happening on her friend’s date. She finds a happy middle ground in thinking about earlier that day, when she and Waverly had woken up together in Waverly’s bed.

It had been a weirdly intimate moment, even as it had felt to both of them to be completely natural at the same time. 

Both of them had been dog-tired and slept like the dead; the kind of sleep where you barely even shift position in the night, and Nicole had woken first to find that Waverly was still burrowed close. 

After a second of thought, Nicole had decided to eschew her run, telling herself that she did not want to wake Waverly, but knowing deep down that she simply did not want to leave the safety of the embrace. 

When Waverly had woken half an hour later, she had not seemed nearly as surprised at their position as Nicole would have expected. 

Instead, she had simply smiled up at Nicole in delight, her expression like sunshine, before giggling and growing shy all of a sudden. She buried her face into Nicole’s shoulder and said,

“You didn’t go running.”

“No,” Nicole whispered back. “I didn’t want to leave.” 

Waverly had giggled softly again at this, wriggling and getting comfortable and obviously harbouring no intention of moving until Gus called them at the very last minute. 

At no point had they mentioned the odd intimacy of the moment, not as they ate their meals together, not as they worked on the farm, or as Waverly had dressed and got ready for her date. 

It was like the moment was already completely normalised, but Nicole cannot stop thinking of it now as something utterly out of the ordinary; as something ethereal and otherworldly.

It makes the reason for Waverly’s current absence all the more jarring, and as much as Nicole genuinely doesn’t want Waverly to have a bad time, she spends all afternoon wishing Waverly would text and ask for an intervention. 

Nicole’s phone remains silent, however, and at around seven o’clock, Curtis calls out that he is heading out to pick Waverly up. 

Nicole finishes her homework, and is dropping her books back off upstairs when she hears Curtis pull up in the drive again. Two sets of footsteps can be heard by the front door, then one set tracks across the landing and up the stairs. 

Nicole cannot say whether Waverly expects to find the room unoccupied or not, but when the other girl walks in, it is obvious that she is not happy. 

“Hey you,” Nicole says, trying for a smile and playing at everything being totally normal. “How was it?” 

“Hey,” Waverly says. She tries to smile but she is still an absolutely horrible liar. “It was good.” 

Nicole waits for her to say more, but Waverly says nothing. Instead she changes into more comfortable clothes, her back to Nicole the whole time. 

Nicole looks away while she changes, trying to think of something to say. The whole mood of the room is terse and uncomfortable, and Nicole feels a terrible thrill of fear about what might have happened. 

“Waves…” Nicole murmurs, still with no idea whatsoever of what she is going to say. Waverly removes the decision from her, however, when she lets out a horrible, ragged sound a moment later. It is somewhere between a sob and an uncontrolled intake of breath, and Nicole feels her chest crack wide open. 

She whirls around and finds Waverly standing to one side, not quite facing Nicole - almost as if she had tried to turn around but had got stuck halfway. She is standing there in her usual black cotton leggings, pink fluffy socks pulled up past her ankles, and an impossibly huge white t-shirt. She looks absolutely tiny, and the illusion is made all the worse by the way she has wrapped her bare arms around her front. 

She is making a valiant attempt not to cry, but failing spectacularly all the same, and for the second time in two nights, she casts Nicole a tearful, searching glance and looks completely and utterly lost. 

“Oh, Waves…” 

Nicole darts forward, pulling Waverly close while she cries quietly against Nicole’s sweatshirt. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nicole whispers, rubbing one hand against Waverly’s back in wide, sweeping circles. 

After a moment or two, Waverly’s crying subsides, and Nicole finally dares to ask,

“What happened?” 

Waverly pulls back enough to wipe her eyes, and she shakes her head as she does so.

“No, nothing. He didn’t do anything to me.” 

Nicole casts Waverly a doubtful glance, and Waverly shakes her head a second time, wearing an expression that seems more believable.

“Honestly, he didn’t do anything, but he tried.” 

Nicole feels her fear settle deeper beneath her skin. “What do you mean?” 

“Uh. He - we uh,” Waverly struggles for words, and eventually glances at Nicole’s bed. She sits and tugs Nicole with her by the hand. 

Nicole sits close but ultimately lets Waverly set the distance between them. The other girl chooses to move so that their bodies touch, and so that she can lay her head on Nicole’s shoulder. She doesn’t let go of Nicole’s hand, so Nicole squeezes her fingers. 

“It’s okay,” she repeats. 

“It started out fine,” Waverly says, “but it was really awkward to be honest. We didn’t have anything to talk about. He told me all about football and about the rodeos he does, and I tried to listen and understand but he wasn’t super interested in my input. He didn’t want to discuss my classes or cheerleading or anything, so I suggested we go to the carnival. He got cake and we played on some of the games, then we did the rides. It was okay, but I didn’t feel great about the whole thing so it wasn’t super fun. Then I suggested we go on the Ferris Wheel, and he held my hand on the way over there, which I didn’t like much but I figured I’d just go with it. 

“Then, when we were on the wheel he started telling me he’d liked me for a while, and thought I was really hot and stuff, which wasn’t the nicest way to put it but oh well. Then, on the ride he kissed me. I sort of just let him because like, how would I know if I  _ really _ didn’t like him if I’m not gonna give this stuff a chance, you know?” 

Waverly pauses and implies that this is not a rhetorical question. Nicole could, to some degree, empathise because when she was fourteen she’d kissed a boy at school with a similar question in mind. Although, in her case, she wasn’t talking about that particular boy in general. Kissing Chris Yabsley wasn’t bad in any way but she simply didn’t feel anything at all, except regret that he wasn’t Amelia Price, who Nicole had had a crush on for months. 

It sort of cemented the whole lesbian thing even more, and she’d never tried that particular experiment again. 

She doesn’t tell Waverly any of this, but she does say, “I get it. Totally.” 

Her emphatic tone seems to hearten Waverly, and her voice is stronger when she goes on. 

“So we kind of made out on the Ferris Wheel, and then a little bit after we left the ride.” 

At this, Nicole does her level best  _ not _ to picture the scene, because the image of Waverly making out with Champ hurts in a way she had not at all expected. The idea of his lips on Waverly’s is horrible, and Nicole does her level best to push the image out of her mind. 

“Okay,” Nicole says, because Waverly seems to want her to say something.

“Then he suggested we do the corn maze, and I kind of knew it was a bad idea, but I said yes anyway, because he’d actually been really nice for some of the date, and I guess I thought I should give him a chance. But once we got in the maze, and the further we got away from everything else, I sort of realised… He uh, he didn’t want to find the flag, he just wanted to keep making out where no one would see us. Which like, it wasn’t great but it was okay. I don’t know if he wasn’t that good at it, or if I uh, I was the one that was bad at it, but either way it didn’t feel good, not like when I kissed Jacob White. That was actually nice. 

“Anyway, I could have been alright with the kissing I think, but he kept getting really pushy. He got me so that I had my back against the maze, and he shoved himself - ”

At this, Waverly’s voice wobbles. She draws in a breath and, on instinct, Nicole puts her arm around Waverly’s shoulder.

“He shoved himself right up against me. I could feel everything, and I don’t know. It wasn’t  _ that _ part that I hated so much as how I felt totally trapped, and I knew I didn’t want him, not like that. He tried to touch me a lot, even though I kept telling him not to, that it was too soon. He uh, he touched my chest through my shirt and when I told him not to do that, he tried to put his hand up my skirt. Not, you know,  _ there _ , but on my thigh. I totally freaked out at that point, just shoved him really hard and yelled at him that I didn’t want him to do that. He looked so, so pissed off, so I just told him my uncle was coming to get me and prayed it was near my curfew. Luckily it was, so I only had to wait ten minutes and then Curtis was there.”

Waverly finishes her story and starts crying again, and Nicole holds her tight and just waits quietly for the tears to pass.

“I’m so sorry Waverly,” Nicole whispers after a time. “He’s an ass. I can’t stand him.”

“To be honest all that stuff isn’t even what upsets me. You were right,” Waverly says with a tearful laugh, “and so was Steph. You knew I was dumb for going, and Steph always said no one would want to date me. He doesn’t want to date me, he just wanted to get past second base. When I walked off, he actually told me I should be grateful he was interested because no one else is.” 

“I didn’t think you were dumb for going on a date with him Waverly,” Nicole says softly, “I just thought he didn’t deserve you. And now I know even more that he doesn’t. He’s  _ awful _ and I kind of want to kick his ass on Monday.” 

Waverly gasps and, hurriedly, Nicole adds, “I  _ won’t _ , obviously. I’d never do that to you. But it’s what he deserves for being like that with you. And as for what Steph says, you know she’s a prize idiot in every way, including this one. Lots of people see you for the amazing person you are, and plenty of them will want to date you.” 

Waverly gives an ugly snort. “That’s not true. No one does.” 

A little voice in the back of Nicole’s head says  _ well, I do _ , and her heart aches with the longing to tell Waverly as much. Instead, she says,

“Just you wait and see. You’re worth so much more than the people in our grade. I know one day someone’s gonna show you that, and you’ll forget you ever knew a shitty, awful guy called Champ Hardy.”

“I just feel so stupid,” Waverly says, still crying. “He’s gonna go back to his friends and tell them what we did. I feel so dirty and disgusting. I can still feel his hand on my leg, and on my chest. It makes me feel sick.” 

“Do you want to take a shower?” Nicole suggests gently. “I can feel how cold you are too. I’ll wait here until you’re done.”

Waverly nods, the movement shaking Nicole’s shoulder. 

“You will wait, yeah? I can’t face going downstairs on my own.” 

“Of course I’ll wait, I’ll be here when you come back.” 

Waverly pulls away, sitting back so she can look at Nicole directly. 

“Thank you,” she says, tears still coasting down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what I was gonna do on the ride home, but I knew I was gonna tell you everything.”

Nicole offers her a weak smile. “I’m always here. I got you Waves.” 

  
  
  
  
  


In a rather out of character move, Nicole fills dinnertime with completely inane chatter. It is probably obvious to everyone what she is doing, but Waverly’s bad mood is practically palpable and despite their obvious concern, Gus, Curtis, and Wynonna all elect to say nothing about the date. 

Wynonna herself catches on pretty quick to Nicole's plan, and manages to assist by jumping in to help keep conversation and chatter a constant throughout the whole meal. 

It results in her and Nicole gently bickering for almost an hour, and not only does it keep attention off Waverly, but it seems to genuinely entertain everyone else at the table. 

With all her time spent with Waverly recently, Nicole had forgotten just how much she enjoyed Wynonna's company, and it is nice to have that rapport back for a short while. 

After dinner, the three girls wash up together while Gus and Curtis go and light the fire in the living room. 

"Do I assume that you won't be seeing Hardy again?" Wynonna asks in a way that, by her standards, is impressively soft and gentle. 

"Definitely not," Waverly says, sounding emphatic but still quiet and subdued. 

"And do I assume that whatever happened, it's all in hand now?" Wynonna goes on by way of a follow up question, directing this mostly at Nicole when Waverly is not looking. Careful not to be seen, Nicole nods, knowing her expression is serious and tight. 

Wynonna offers her a smile that is no less strained. 

Unaware of this interaction, Waverly says, "It's all okay Wyn, I've talked it out with Nicole. Please let me forget about it now."

"So long as you're okay babygirl. And you never give that lowlife your time again."

“I think we all know I won’t be doing that. And yeah, I’m okay. Or I will be.” 

With that thought hovering between them, they finish washing and drying the dishes, and Waverly puts the last of them away as Wynonna lets the water out of the sink and Nicole hangs the tea towel up to dry. 

As a group, they leave the kitchen, and Waverly stops by the living room to talk to Gus and Curtis. What she says seems to surprise everyone else in equal measure.

“I know it’ll be a school night, but can I go back to the fall festival tomorrow? With Nicole? She’s never been to a fair like that before.” 

She says this with so much conviction, and she sounds so plainative, that for a moment no one else says anything. 

“We don’t even have to stay late. We could go right after lunch and come back before it’s dark.”

Nicole watches as Gus and Curtis exchange an unsubtle look of concern. Then, they each glance to Nicole herself, who tries to school her features into as neutral an expression as possible. 

Perhaps last night’s performance really hasn’t dented their trust in Nicole, or perhaps they too can see how desperately Waverly needs to erase the memory of her time with Champ, but Gus and Curtis both nod a moment later. 

“You’ll need to do your homework though,” Gus says. “I know Nicole has done hers. But if you can prove that you can get some done tonight and the rest done this time tomorrow, then yes, you can both go. And perhaps you can ask Chrissy too. I haven’t heard much about her recently.”

At this, Waverly glances to Nicole, who nods enthusiastically. “I’d love for Chrissy to come too.” 

Nicole means this genuinely. Chrissy is always super nice, and Nicole is happy at the idea that Waverly can surround herself with lots of supportive people right now. 

“Okay, I’ll text her in a minute. Thanks.” 

At this the girls drift out of the room and upstairs. To Nicole’s immense surprise, Wynonna follows them to Waverly’s room and stands in the doorway. 

She does not seem to know what to say, but still seems to be concerned. After a moment, she looks first to Nicole and then to Waverly.

“If you’ve talked to Nicole, then I’m gonna trust that you guys have got this in hand,” Wynonna says. “And I’m not going to force you to say anything. I just want to ask one thing please.” 

Waverly nods. “Okay.” 

“Did he...did that little fucker  _ do _ anything to you?” 

“No,” Waverly says firmly. “Whatever you’re thinking, no. Nothing like that happened. He was just handsy and insensitive.” 

“Bastard,” Wynonna hisses under her breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. She says nothing more about Champ however, and seems to be satisfied that Waverly is telling her the truth. “You need a distraction tonight, or what?” 

Waverly looks to Nicole. “Did you want to do anything in particular?” 

Nicole pulls a nonplussed face. “I didn’t have anything in mind, no.” 

In the end, after some aimless back and forth, Wynonna goes to her room for a moment, only to return quickly with  _ Cards Against Humanity _ . 

The three of them sit on the floor in the space between the two beds, and work their way through several rounds of the game. Nicole had not necessarily expected it to be Waverly’s thing, but all of the girls laugh their way through every absurd combination of cards that crops up, and Nicole suspects that Wynonna plays down some of the more obscene, offensive possibilities just to keep things comfortable all round. 

It is the first time that all three girls have really spent time together in this way, and the night seems to slip like water between their fingers. Before any of them knows it, the time is nearing midnight, and they all acknowledge a need for sleep. 

They clear up the cards, and Wynonna slinks out of the room quietly after bidding Nicole and Waverly goodnight. 

It is very obvious that she has intervened to try and make Waverly feel better, even if Wynonna would probably never say as much. It was a very touching gesture all the same, and Nicole can tell that it has helped. 

Waverly seems much brighter when they both get into bed a moment later, as if thoughts of Champ Hardy are much less consequential than they were a few hours earlier.

Much as Nicole knows how upsetting this all was for Waverly, she also knows that with time and distance from the event, Waverly will feel better and move on. She vows that she will do all in her power to help the process, and to show Waverly just how deeply worthy of love she is. 

All Nicole wants, she decides as she drifts into sleep, is for Waverly to be happy. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The next day, Waverly and Nicole borrow Wynonna’s truck, and Waverly drives them to the fair with an air of steely determination about her. 

Nicole had insisted three times already that they didn’t have to go, but Waverly had brushed her off with a little too much nonchalance to be entirely convincing. 

Still, Nicole could sense that Waverly knew her own mind well enough to make this call, and she trusted her friend to do the right thing. 

What’s more, the McCreadys seemed to trust them both too. 

Curtis had taken Nicole to one side earlier that day, and at first Nicole had expected a lecture on what to do and how long to stay out. 

Instead, he had wordlessly handed her a twenty dollar bill. 

For a moment, Nicole had simply stared at the money blankly. 

“I don’t have a job. I can’t pay you back for this.” 

Curtis, however, had smiled. “I disagree with you there. You’ve been working two mornings per week on my farm without fail. This isn’t proportionate to what you’ve done, but it is a gift from me. You don’t need to repay gifts.” 

Nicole had remained sceptical. “I’m doing the work to earn my keep here. You’re already spending enough on me to give me food and stuff.” 

“Actually,” Curtis had countered good-naturedly, “you’re doing the work because it’s what I expect of my own kids. I give Waverly her own money for things like this too. I want you to take this and enjoy your afternoon please Nicole. And make sure Waverly does too, okay?” 

At the mention of Waverly, Nicole had conceded. 

“Okay, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Nicole.” 

Nicole had placed the money very carefully into an inner pocket of her backpack, before heading out to meet Waverly by the front door. 

A while later, as Waverly drives, Nicole asks,

“Did Chrissy say she was coming?” 

“Her dad is gonna be at the fair today, doing a shift with the other cops. She headed in with him and said they’re spending a little time together before he has to start work, but she’ll come meet us later on. Is that okay?” 

“Totally. I’m happy if it’s either us two or all three of us.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Waverly says and she seems to mean this very keenly. After a pause, she adds, “I know I don’t say it enough, but I want you to know that I’m so happy you came here Nicole. I’ve never made friends with anyone else that stayed with us before, and they never looked out for me like you have this weekend. Thank you, seriously.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, it’s what friends do for each other.” 

Nicole likes the way those words sound between them, and if the look on Waverly’s face is anything to go by, she is pretty happy with the way things have worked out too.

  
  
  
  
  
  


For a while, it is just the two of them at the fall festival. 

The event itself is pretty much the small-town, country stereotype Nicole had imagined; no more, no less.

Experiencing it with Waverly, however, is another matter entirely. 

At first, Nicole isn’t entirely sure that that the whole thing is a good idea, because things must surely still be raw for Waverly, and there was every chance she would relive them inside the fair. 

The moment they step through the entryway, however, all Nicole’s doubts melt away.

Waverly lights up, rather like the fairground illuminations, almost immediately grabbing at Nicole’s wrist and pulling her gently around the area, wanting to point out everything. 

She shows her the attractions - although by both of their standards ‘attraction’ is a strong word - and the food tents, insisting that Nicole try the funnel cake which is, admittedly, delicious. There are tents with animals and produce on show, some with ribbons to show they have won something. 

“When I was little my Uncle Curtis would ask me to help him choose the things we’d enter into the event, but we haven’t bothered for a couple of years,” Waverly explains. “But when we did, we’d all come here together with the animals or whatever we’d grown, and they’d let me go on all the rides and check out all the food tents. I swear half the stuffed toys I owned were won here. I always used to look forward to it.” 

Waverly is still gripping at Nicole’s wrist, chatting a mile a minute, and Nicole realises she must be watching her with stars in her eyes. She knows she needs to be more careful, but it is getting harder to stop herself. 

Waverly giggles. “What? You’re looking at me funny…”

Nicole cannot help but smile to herself.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just like listening to you talk. I like seeing you get excited about stuff. It’s really nice.”

It is hard to say for sure, but Waverly appears to blush a little at this. She smiles at Nicole and murmurs a word of thanks, but otherwise does not comment. 

Instead, they walk aimlessly between all the stereotypical carnival and arcade games, passing by the high striker, the whac-a-mole, and the ring toss. There are countless claw cranes, skee ball machines, and even little hook-a-duck stalls. As twee and stereotypical as it all is, Nicole finds that she kind of loves it all. 

It sort of makes her feel like a kid, although she had never been to a small town fairground like this, and even the arcades in the city had mostly shut down or fallen foul of cut-backs by the time she was old enough to be admitted without an adult present. 

“Want to try anything?” Waverly asks, and it is only then that Nicole realises that her friend has been watching her as she takes the fairground in. 

“I don’t know,” Nicole says honestly. “I kind of feel like I should, just to say that I have. But I’m trying to work out if it’s kind of pointless.” 

“I get it,” Waverly says, “it’s hard to tell if they’ve rigged stuff, but to be honest I don’t think it’s super bad here.” 

Nicole hums, still mulling over what she could try out. Honestly, she is more interested in the rides, and definitely not too bothered about winning any of the prizes. 

“You could try the tin can alley,” Waverly suggests, “I bet you have to be a good aim with all the sports you play.” 

Nicole shrugs. “Sure, but just one go.” 

They make their way over and Nicole exchanges some of Curtis’ money for five baseballs. She half expects the cans to be weighted down, and it does kind of seem like one at the bottom is a little too heavy to be entirely without suspicion, but she manages to knock down two thirds of the targets on her first try. 

Waverly gives a little whoop. “See? I  _ knew _ you’d be good at this one.” 

Nicole chuckles.

“I gotta get the rest yet,” she says, even as her second shot clears all but one can. 

Waverly snorts. “Oh ye of little faith.” 

Nicole tosses the third baseball up and down in her hand a couple of times. She cannot help but smile, even if she still thinks the remaining can is going to be too heavy to shift.

“Was this your way of sneakily getting a prize you had your eye on?” she teases. 

“ _ No _ ,” Waverly huffs indignantly, before her expression shifts into something mischievous. “ _ But _ if you win and you don’t pick that little knock-off Pusheen holding a donut, you can find your own way home.” 

Nicole raises an eyebrow. “I’m trying to work out if picking anything  _ but _ that is worth the long walk.” 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Waverly says, looking scandalised. She barges at Nicole with her shoulder right as she’s about to throw the ball. 

“Carry on like that and we won’t have to worry about it,” Nicole says with a laugh. 

“I’m not above sabotage,” Waverly gripes, but it is obvious she is joking. 

Nicole’s third shot hits home with a clang and Waverly gives her a little round of applause.

“That was very impressive,” she trills, looking genuinely delighted. 

It is those sorts of things about Waverly - the way her eyes light up and she finds such joy in everything - that Nicole finds herself falling for. 

Waverly is making this difficult,  _ really _ difficult, although she does not seem to be aware of this fact. 

The game attendant is decently believable when he commends Nicole’s aim, before offering her any choice of prize except the biggest stuffed toys for, apparently, hitting the cans on every try. 

Nicole pretends for the briefest of moments to choose, before selecting the one Waverly had pointed out.

It  _ is _ pretty cute, with the little brown whiskers coming out the side of the cat’s face, and the tiny little dipped donut sewed on between its paws. They’ve even decorated it with fake sprinkles.

“You know,” Nicole says playfully as she admires her prize. “For a fake one it’s actually pretty good.” 

They start to wander away from the stall, heading towards the rides. As they walk, Nicole hands the toy over for Waverly to examine.

“It’s super cute,” she agrees enthusiastically, before trying to hand it back to Nicole.

“No, it’s fine,” Nicole says. “You said you wanted it, so I got it for you.” 

For a moment or two, Waverly tries to do the polite thing, but Nicole genuinely does not feel any desire to claim the little prize for her own. 

“Well,” Waverly concludes as she finally stops trying to hand it over, “it’s going to be living in my room anyway, and since you’re there too it technically means we’re sharing.” 

It is the most diplomatic, Waverly-esque conclusion that could possibly have been drawn, and it makes Nicole smile. 

By the time they make it to the rides, the light is starting to fade, given how short the days are becoming as they all edge towards winter. It makes everything seem far more exciting as all the neon lights start to flicker into life. 

Curtis and Gus had made it clear that Waverly’s curfew from yesterday of seven thirty is a bit more flexible if she is only going to be with Nicole and Chrissy, but she still has to do her homework, so Wynonna has been instructed to check up on them by phone pretty early if they are not already back home. 

All the same, there are a lot of rides to get through and - questionable structural integrity of some of them notwithstanding - Nicole kind of wants to try them all. 

They start off simple, childishly keen to try and outdo each other on the dodgems, before moving onto a very tame rollercoaster which is far more like a little train ride than anything else. 

“You up for trying the pendulum ride?” Nicole asks. The one here seems to have no specific name, but it actually looks kind of good compared 

“You really wanna do all the rides?” Waverly replies, letting Nicole lead the way over to the line.

“I mean, sure,” Nicole says, before poking her tongue out slightly. “Unless you’re scared and don’t want to.” 

“Well,” Waverly says with a lopsided grin, “the wildest thing I was ever allowed to do was the helter skelter, but sure, let’s do it.” 

“If these things are about to fall apart, this is the time to tell me.” 

“Oh sure, like I’d get on if I knew it was about to come crashing down,” Waverly points out.

“Okay, fair.” 

“I’d offer to hold your bag and let  _ you _ get on.” 

Nicole feigns grave injury. “Okay wow. Next time, win your own stuffed toy.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


(Waverly’s illusion of nonchalance is somewhat shattered when she grabs onto Nicole’s had on the pendulum ride  _ and  _ the drop tower, gripping on so hard Nicole worries about loss of circulation in her fingers. 

Both times, she seems a little breathless when they make it back to solid ground, but she never once refuses to join Nicole, and - when they meet up with Chrissy shortly after - even suggests they all try the scrambler together. 

Nicole clambers onto the ride between Waverly and Chrissy, all of them yelling and laughing as they spin round and round and round. 

It is pretty exhilarating, and when they step down and struggle to keep their balance as the dizziness hits, Waverly holds on tight to Nicole for far too long, and Nicole wonders if there has ever been a time when she felt quite so alive.)

  
  
  
  
  
  


At around six o’clock, Waverly, Nicole, and Chrissy stop off back at the little makeshift alley of food trucks. 

Nicole and Chrissy pick up a rather delicious-looking (and ostentatiously enormous) cheeseburger and portion of fries each. True to usual form, Waverly just opts for the fries.

They find a free table in a large catering tent nearby, all of them eventually adding coats atop their hoodies and sweaters. It is starting to get undeniably cold as the end of November creeps up on them. 

They eat together and chat, and if Chrissy is aware of Waverly’s date with Champ last night she does not mention it at all. Instead, they mostly talk about school. It is time for them all to make their very serious decisions about applications for further education, which coincides horribly with the first stirrings of worry about exams and essay deadlines in the month to follow.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about college?” Chrissy asks Waverly, who shakes her head.

“No. I don’t think I’m going to go this year though. I think I’ll defer so I can earn some money and really decide what course I want to do.”

This surprises Nicole. Admittedly, she and Waverly have never really talked about college, but it had seemed obvious that Waverly would go. She was easily one of the smartest people in the grade, and she had so much genuine and deep-seated interest in the classes she took.

Of course, the financials of college are a whole different matter, but Nicole had seriously thought Waverly would have finished her applications by now.

“You wouldn’t want to major in History?” she asks, taking a sip of Coke.

At this, Waverly and Chrissy exchange a look and Nicole immediately has the sense that she has asked about something that is off limits.

After a pause, Waverly says, “I think I would, yeah. But I also don’t really know what  _ kind _ of History.”

The comment seems plausible enough, but there is an undertone to Waverly’s voice that suggests that she is being somewhat evasive. 

“What about you Nicole?” Chrissy asks brightly, perhaps trying to move the conversation along, but perhaps genuinely interested in Nicole’s answer.

“It’s hard to say,” Nicole begins, thinking things through. Thus far, she has only discussed wanting to be a cop with Waverly. She hasn’t said a thing to Gus and Curtis. “Back at home I had a job. It didn’t pay a lot but it was a good starting point. Now I’m here, I kind of have no money so it makes college seem a bit…impossible.”

“You’ll get a solid shot at a scholarship though, right?” Chrissy asks. “You do like a million sports, and you’re good at them. Plus you’re acing Psych.”

“You should go for it,” Waverly says quietly but exceptionally firmly, shocking Nicole for a second time in the same conversation.

It was surprising to hear such a strong degree of conviction in Waverly’s voice. Nicole hadn’t imagined that anyone but her would have given her future away from Purgatory much thought.

Waverly adds, “I think you’re pretty much a dead cert to get in wherever you want, and you’ll get some kind of scholarship or bursary if you apply.”

Nicole pulls a face. She is not all that convinced about her chances.

“Maybe,” she says, not to be evasive or blunt, but because she does not know what else to say. She isn’t used to someone else believing in her like that.

“I mean, you might as well apply for the money,” Chrissy points out. “Especially if you know what you want to do and it’s something you’re set on.”

She says this with a question in her voice that suggests she wants to know more about Nicole’s idea of a career path.

Nicole does not want to set too many people up to watch her fail, but with Waverly present she can hardly say she is unsure.

“Yeah, I was looking at either doing some kind of Criminal Psychology course, or a Prelim to Law Enforcement or something.”

At this, Chrissy looks rather excited. “Really? To be a cop?”

Nicole nods. “Yeah.”

“Oh wow, that’s awesome. You know, you should speak to my dad. Maybe he can advise you? He’d love that.”

“Really? Do you think he’d for sure be okay with that?”

Chrissy gives a very vehement nod. “Trust me. He always wants to talk to me about cop stuff – well, what he can say – but it’s pointless. It’s just not for me. I think it’s awesome though. I’ll tell him to speak to you the next time I’m round at Waves’ place and he picks me up.”

“That would actually be super great, thank you so much.”

Nicole’s gratitude is genuine and deep-set. The conversation feels odd to her and it takes a moment as she listens to Chrissy talk about her interest in a Psych course before she realises that things no longer feel like such an uphill struggle here.

Admittedly, being away from soccer might make getting money for college harder, and having no job is certainly a huge barrier. The likelihood, however, that her parents had saved money for her future was slim no matter whether Nicole was under their roof or not. More than that, her ability (and willingness) to pester them for a contribution (after all, it is not as though they contributed anything else) out of their own not unsubstantial bank accounts was very much diminished here.

And yet, in spite of these issues, Nicole has to admit that having people around who support her emotionally makes the whole thing seem like less of a mountain to climb. It also feels less ridiculous to believe that she can become a cop when other people seem to take it at face value that she can make this happen for herself.

She sits with this feeling until they all finish eating and their discussion about college comes to an end.

They throw away all the food packaging – happily everything seems to biodegradable containers with a large and surprising bent towards sustainability – and head back out into the night. It is completely dark now, and the neon lights are overwhelming.

“What should we do?” Waverly asks, shivering and adjusting her light scarf.

She and Nicole had filled Chrissy in on all their adventures from earlier on in the day, prompting Chrissy to say,

“Well, since you guys did everything else already, what about the wheel and the maze?”

Nicole feels herself grow tense on Waverly’s behalf. Through no fault of her own Chrissy, is completely unaware of the events of last night, but Nicole had gone to great pains to avoid either activity today.

“Well, I don’t mind repeating rides,” Nicole says quickly, risking a glance at Waverly to gauge her response.

They meet each other’s eye briefly, and Waverly looks to Nicole with a knowing expression on her face. She smiles, the gesture wide and full of gratitude.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s do the wheel yeah? I want to see the fairground all lit up.”

“You sure?” Nicole asks, trying to be as subtle as possible.

Waverly beams. “Definitely! It’ll be fun to do it with you guys.”

The response is cryptic enough, but obvious to Nicole’s ears. Waverly is happy to replace the memory of last night with something better. 

They line up together for the ride, and are given space together in one compartment. It seems like a squeeze – and probably a health and safety matter – especially when the attendant brings the metal bar down to stop them falling out.

Waverly – as the smallest – gets stuck with the middle spot, although Nicole would argue that having her left leg jammed up against the side of the compartment is also a pretty raw deal.

It feels snug and cosy though, and kind of childishly exciting, to be packed in with her two friends as they sail up and up and up. It is a surprisingly high wheel, and the rotations pause when they have reached the very peak.

All three of them can agree that it is a pretty spectacular view. Chrissy and Waverly seem preoccupied with pointing out the different parts of the fairground, but far more impressive to Nicole is the silhouette of the nearby mountains. Even now, the white of the snow-capped summits sticks out against the dark sky, and a part of Nicole longs for the remoteness that mountains seem to signify.

She no longer aches to get out from the watchful eye of the McCreadys as she once used to because, even though it is impossible to be alone between school and farm work and mealtimes and sharing a room with Waverly, the family is not especially strict on Nicole.

Rather, her desire to head to the mountains is more about the lure of the location and her ongoing interest in learning about rock climbing. Those little things are starting to creep back in now that the fog of a life without parents is lifting. The little interests and fascinations, the small goals like a trip away or a new skill learned, they all feel more accessible again now, like they do not have to be pushed away or obscured.

No one notices Nicole’s line of sight, and eventually Nicole is the one to turn her attention back to Waverly and Chrissy as they share laughter about something that had passed Nicole by. She supposes they are used to it now, being surrounded by all this scenery, but for Nicole it was only something she saw when her parents took her to music festivals. Being there had never felt like this; like, just maybe, this time, she was actually a part of the story.

After a couple of lazy rotations, the girls are ordered off the Ferris wheel, at which point Chrissy seems to forget entirely that no one has attempted the maze.

Nicole thinks that might be pushing things a step too far, and is happy that the subject never comes up again. 

They wander back through the fairground games and try their hand a few until Wynonna texts Waverly. 

_ Much as I hate to encourage anyone to do the right thing _ , she writes,  _ it’s gone 8pm so you better come back soon. Gus and Curtis will be home by half 10, and will want to know why you haven’t finished your homework. _

“She’s right,” Waverly says with a sigh. “We should go.” 

Waverly offers a lift to Chrissy, who decides that she might as well wait an hour more for her dad to finish work. 

Nicole and Waverly therefore make their own way back to the truck and use the last of Nicole’s money from Curtis to stop at a drive-thru for a milkshake for Nicole and a happily accidentally vegan dessert for Waverly. 

As they are pulling out of the lot and back onto the road, Waverly says quietly,

“Thank you for looking out for me earlier.”

Genuinely unsure of what she means, Nicole replies, “I didn’t do anything.”

Waverly laughs quietly.

“Yes, you did.”

“Did I?” Nicole asks sheepishly, chewing on the straw of her milkshake.

“The wheel and the maze? Not letting us go anywhere near either all afternoon, then trying to change the plans when Chrissy suggested we do them both? That was really sweet.”

“It was nothing,” Nicole says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well it was something to me. It means a lot, seriously.”

“Okay. Well, you’re welcome. Anytime, honestly.”

“I know Nicole,” Waverly replies seriously. “I know I can come to you anytime at all, and it makes me feel so safe. Thank you for agreeing to come here today, for not trying to talk me out of it. I kind of thought people would.”

Trying to ignore the way her heart rate had picked up when Waverly had mentioned feeling safe, Nicole asks,

“Why did you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Waverly answers with a heavy sigh. “I just feel that way sometimes; like no one quite trusts me to call the shots or to know what’s good for me.”

“Really?”

Nicole had never realised Waverly felt that way.

“I mean, I suppose I get it. It feels like, after losing my parents and my sisters in such a short space of time, it felt like for months – years even – people were watching me and waiting for the meltdown. I got babied I think, maybe more than I should have, and I think people still believe I’m just gonna break if something else bad happens. I guess with Curtis and Gus it’s different. They’re basically my parents so I know I’m always gonna be their kid no matter how old I am. But I want to feel like people trust me to know my own mind.”

Nicole cannot help but laugh a little. “Oh, tell me about it. Being trusted to know what I want would be super cool.”

“Oh,” Waverly says, her demeanour shifting. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think…”

“No,” Nicole interjects quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that at all; like oh my version of the problem’s bigger than yours. Sorry. I just meant that I agree completely.”

“Still though, I should have thought about what that means for you.”

“It means that we get each other,” Nicole says softly, reaching on impulse to squeeze gently at Waverly’s forearm as she holds the steering wheel.

The gesture is intended to be comforting, but it seems like something else entirely.

For as long as driving on a darkened road can allow, Waverly’s gaze shoots towards the place where Nicole’s hand rests atop Waverly’s sweater. Then, she looks Nicole directly in the eye. It does not last long because Waverly’s eyes are back on the road in an instant, but the expression on her face is shocked and slightly tumultuous. It is hard to say whether it is a bad or a good thing, but to be on the safe side Nicole removes her hand again.

They say nothing more as they drive through the darkness, but the silence between them is easy and peaceful – just as simple as breathing.

  
  
  
  
  


They spend the rest of the night with the same cocoon of peaceful companionship swaddled around them.

They arrive home to find that Wynonna is in her bedroom, so they have the run of the downstairs part of the house.

Waverly lights the fire and lets it sputter into life as she goes upstairs to collect her books. In an attempt to be helpful, Nicole starts boiling water and thinks to make tea, before deciding that it has been an indulgent sort of a day and that this demanded hot chocolate by the fire to draw it to a close. 

As Waverly sits and works through her homework, Nicole channel hops until she finds something quiet and unobtrusive to play in the background. She eventually settles on an unseasonably early Christmas movie, full to the brim with every cheesy trope anyone could wish for.

So that Waverly can study, Nicole keeps the volume so low that she can barely hear any of the dialogue, but it is not really necessary to understand what is happening.

It makes her wonder what Christmas will be like here. She can only imagine that Gus goes all-out making a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, and guesses that the McCreadys are very skilled gift-givers. Nicole, on the other hand, cannot afford to buy anyone anything at all.

She supposes it does not matter all that much really, because her birthday is just a few days into the New Year, and then she will be on her way back to Ottawa.

She feels her stomach twist a little at the thought of running away from Purgatory. It is not quite a feeling of guilt, exactly, but it is on the same spectrum.

She thinks of how often Waverly has told her that she is so different from other kids they have had stay with them, precisely  _ because _ Nicole was patient and tolerant and she tried to work with Gus and Curtis, rather than against them. By turning her back on the program, she supposes she is going to reinforce everything everyone has ever said or thought about her since she was a junior.

The thought hits her like a freight train, and it takes all of her restraint not to message Dolls there and then in a haze of panic, telling him that the plan is off.

She has never been the person everyone used to think she was, but for a long time it didn’t matter that the only person who knew the truth was Nicole alone. Dolls believed in her and she would never downplay the positive effect that has had on her, but he was somewhat removed from the situation. He only really saw her for soccer, so he didn’t get a sense of what Nicole was like at school or home, where she spent the vast majority of her time.

He believed in her from a distance, because that was the structure of their relationship.

Here and now, in Purgatory, Gus and Curtis seemed to believe in her from a much closer perspective. If her little impromptu run could not drive that fact home, then nothing would.

If she is being honest with herself, she knows she has been the only one telling herself that people here don’t care. In many ways, it had been easier that way. It was what she was used to after all. More than that, she had allowed herself to only think of her time in Alberta as a punishment, because that was what being forced out of her home against will really did feel like. She knew she hadn’t done anything monumentally unforgivable, so she never saw it as  _ that _ kind of a punishment, but rather an unfair, disproportionate sort of sentence in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people.

The trouble, however, was that Waverly and her family  _ weren’t _ unfamiliar any longer. Nicole was all too aware of the roundabout way Curtis sometimes approached their little catch up discussions, or the way Gus baked extra cookies when she was stressed. She knew the particular way Wynonna scowled at the breakfast table every morning before she’d had her first (and often, second) cup of coffee, and the kinds of music she liked to play when she drove Waverly and Nicole home from school. She knew that, on that note, Wynonna was always waiting for them from Monday to Thursday, but on Friday Gus was the one who would be there. Always, however,  _ someone _ was there. There was never an empty house because the McCready’s home was always thrumming with some kind of activity.

More than anything else, however, Nicole  _ knew _ Waverly. She knew what made her laugh and what made her temper pique. She knew the exquisitely torturous ways she could wind Waverly up, and she knew  _ exactly _ where to stop so that things remained a consensual joke. She knew how to make Waverly smile, or how to tell when she was anxious or scared. She knew how Waverly liked her tea – and her hot chocolate – and what her favourite songs and movies were.

It was, Nicole suddenly realises, the first time she had ever had a family – anyone besides Shae to give her heart to – and it made life a hell of a lot bigger and fuller, and a hell of a lot scarier too. 

It is also, Nicole knows, a monumentally stupid thing to give up on when she has a choice to stick it out.

Even after Nicole had screwed up on Friday night, no one had given up on her. Other than Dolls and maybe one or two of her old teachers, it was the first time she had ever known such a thing.

It feels stupid, really, to be seventeen (nearly eighteen) years old and only just begin to realise how hard things had  _ really _ been for her over the years. Worse still, she was only seeing it now that things  _ weren’t _ quite so hard. Sure, she still had all the normal pressures someone her age could expect. She wasn’t about to downplay the fact that she was juggling a lot of sports commitments with a couple more AP classes than she’d like. She wouldn’t deny, either, that she was terrified as hell about potentially graduating high school and moving onto college. She was even more scared by the idea that she wouldn’t cut it to be a cop. But those were things she’d have been scared about anywhere, and arguably here in Purgatory, she cares about them in a way that is more well-rounded and comprehensive. She can expend all her energy on those things, in part because she  _ has _ energy to expend and the will to use it productively. At home, things like that just weren’t possible. 

She had never really allowed herself to think about all this stuff before, in part because it felt unfair. She hadn’t lost a parent and when her folks were around money wasn’t an issue for them. She had a roof over her head when so very many people did not.

Sure, her parents didn’t care and they didn’t support her, but she didn’t believe it was anything she could really deem a struggle when so many people had it worse. She didn’t have any choice but to carry on, because the other option was to simply grind to a halt.

But looking back now, she was starting to understand that, in many ways, she  _ had _ ground to a halt.

She went through the motions, and she was physically present whenever she could be, but she didn’t  _ really  _ care about much more than soccer.

And if she continues being painfully honest with herself, she would also acknowledge that keeping her heart behind a brick wall had never been the real her. She liked  _ people _ , even if her experience with many of them had not been all that great. She had always liked sharing things with others, be that in terms of experiences or emotions. She had always liked connecting and the happy warmth that came from knowing people. And she was growing to like the warmth that came from having people know  _ her _ . That remained new, uncharted territory for her and it still felt easier to simply carry her own problems and work them out herself, but her reasons for doing so were different now. She knew herself and knew she could cope with almost anything. But she also knew that if there was something that did feel insurmountable, she was now more likely than ever to share it with someone – most probably Waverly.

She supposes the program here must work, because it had cracked her wide open before she’d even been here two months. But it also felt like the McCreadys weren’t staging a big intervention like they normally did. Aside from participating in family life and working on the farm, Nicole hadn’t really  _ done _ anything, and except for making Nicole check in with him at least once a week, Curtis hadn’t really intervened much either. So maybe this wasn’t the program in its true form. Maybe it really was something else entirely, just like everyone had told her. Maybe the McCreadys really  _ had _ just allowed her a small plot in their family. 

Nicole thinks back to something Gus had said on her first weekend in the house, something about her and Curtis taking the unfair responsibilities away from Nicole so that she could live her own life. That didn’t feel like a key regular part of the program, it just felt like the precise kind of helping hand Nicole had resisted for years, because she thought it meant giving up all of her independence.

It is an odd way for her to have this epiphany; sat with a mug of hot chocolate as she pretends to take in a near-muted Christmas movie. It is, nonetheless, how she comes to the conclusion that she has changed her life and her mindset, and Nicole thinks on this in isolation until Waverly, switching between assignments and looking up at Nicole, catches her staring into space.

“What are you thinking about?” Waverly asks with a fond little smile.

“Nothing,” Nicole murmurs gently, before amending her response. “Just that I’ve had a really, really good time with you today.”

It is not strictly the whole truth, but it is certainly  _ a  _ truth in and of itself.

For the first time, Nicole allows herself to acknowledge the real truth about her situation, the one that has been living under skin for a little while.

She is not just learning to be happy here.

She is learning to be  _ happier _ here than she ever was at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter.
> 
> Until next week, take care!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On this very fine #EarpNow Monday, I want to thank you all again for all your kind, enthusiastic engagement with this story.
> 
> I still can't believe people read the stuff I write, but I appreciate your comments so much. They really do make my day. 
> 
> This story sees yet more developments for Nicole, pretty much entirely positive. I hope you're enjoying seeing her settle into life in Purgatory!!

Once Nicole allows herself to accept the truth that Purgatory might be a mere fraction of the size of Ottawa in literal terms, but it offers her so much more in many other ways, there is little need for her to push back against any part of the program anymore.

In truth, she had never really been doing that, but it becomes easier to let go of the old patterns of thought that had felt a bit like a safety net.

She speaks about it with Curtis during their next official Talk in the week following Nicole’s minor epiphany.

Curtis asks her, as he always does, how she feels she is getting on. Normally, Nicole just says she is ‘fine’, because that is usually how she feels. When she is asked the week after the fall festival, however, she takes a little longer to consider her answer.

Normally, Curtis talks to her while they are working in one of his greenhouses, or else they drink tea or coffee at the kitchen table.

During their talk in early November, however, Curtis is driving along the country roads in his truck, and Nicole is sat comfortably on the other side of the cab with her feet on the dash.

She had half expected Curtis to tell her to sit properly, but the van seems to be the oldest one in the McCreadys’ possession and its appearance illustrated this nicely. It would seem that a few bits of dirt from the soles of Nicole’s sneakers were not a cause for concern.

They are headed out of town to pick up some supplies. Curtis had stated his intention to buy wood and, upon further questioning from Nicole, told her that he needed to fix some damage to the treehouse in the big old tree in the backyard.

It seemed an odd time of year to fix up something like that, but apparently a spike in inclement weather earlier in the week was responsible for the problem in the first place.

“Better to fix it now while it’s a small problem,” Curtis had said, “than know the winter weather is going to leave me with a bigger job down the line.”

Apparently, he maintained the treehouse as much out sentiment than anything else. He explained that he had built the structure from scratch for Waverly when she first moved in, and as a child she had loved the little hideout more than almost anything else.

“She does still use it in the summer though,” he had explained. “Mostly when she has friends over and they want to talk about things we can’t hear. They think we don’t realise, but believe it or not we _ were _teenagers at some point as well.”

After this conversation had petered out, he began his usual preamble for the catch up conversation he needed to conduct with Nicole.

When she does not immediately tell him, upon his enquiry into her wellbeing, that she is fine, he glances to her with concern.

“Is this silence something I should be worried about?”

Nicole cannot help but smile at his concern, rolling her eyes playfully.

“_No_,” she says with a laugh. “I’m just thinking.”

Curtis chuckles back.

“Well after weeks of your tough as old boots ‘I’m fine’ repertoire, can you blame me?” he asks good-naturedly.

“No,” Nicole concedes, a little less playful now. “But I’ve been thinking a lot since last time we spoke properly, and I was trying to work out how to put it all into words.”

“Okay,” Curtis says with a nod. “Well then, you take your time.”

He makes a show of fiddling with the volume dial, turning REO Speedwagon’s _ Take It On The Run _ up by a few increments, then down a little, until it is scarcely any louder than before.

The song has ended and been well and truly replaced by Toto’s _ Hold The Line _before Nicole comes to any decisions on how to proceed.

“I sort of realised on Sunday night that it’s working,” she announces eventually.

When she doesn’t speak again for a moment, Curtis asks softly,

“That what’s working Nicole?”

“This,” Nicole says, gesturing between them. “Like, me being out here. I mean, maybe you’d say differently, but to me, I think I’m kind of working out that it’s done its job.”

“’Done’,” Curtis echoes, “as in past tense?”

“Well,” Nicole goes on, “I’m not like, _ there _ yet obviously, am I? I’m still not like…fundamentally all _ that _ great, you know like angelic great," Nicole says with a chuckle, mostly intending this as a sarcastic joke, "but I feel better than I did before I came here. My head’s less foggy now.”

“My family and I think you’re pretty great.”

Nicole snorts. She really was just messing about. “Thanks.”

“I’m serious, Nicole. Having you in our home is a pleasure. You’re polite, you’re conscientious, you’re engaging with us. You work very hard – far harder than I think you realise – and you have a very good head on your shoulders. We can all see that you’re bright, and that you’re a very kind person who’s been through a lot and still faces the world with her chin up. You’re a great kid, and I normally only say that about _ my _kids, so don’t take that lightly.”

“I think, maybe I don’t really know about most of the stuff you said yet – thank you, though – but maybe I realised last weekend that I have been through a lot. I hadn’t really let myself see it because so many people had it worse, so I hadn’t really let myself accept that things were really tough a lot of the time.”

“And now?”

“I think it took me being happier to realise I was fed up to begin with. Which is dumb, I know it is. But it was like I had so much going on I could never really focus on the individual parts, so I wasn’t processing things properly.”

“It’s not dumb, Nicole, far from it. I think, and forgive me for just coming out with it, but I think you’ve been very down, possibly even depressed, for a while now – the way you talk about your brain being less foggy now reinforces that for me – and it made it harder for you to see the wood for the trees. Do you think, maybe, that’s a fair assessment?”

Nicole finds this a hard thing to really consider. She had never thought of herself like that. Her parents’ behaviour never made her exceptionally sad – or at least, it hadn’t for a long time – but she had felt lacklustre and disengaged with her life for a while. Sure, she had been doing her best to make it to school back at home, but it had been like powering through driving rain every day – almost as though she couldn’t really see the point of things but went through the motions anyway. So maybe Curtis was correct. Maybe things really had become that bad and Nicole just hadn’t seen it (or perhaps she hadn’t wanted to see it).

She struggles to formulate a response to this and eventually Curtis intervenes so that she doesn’t have to.

“Regardless, the aim of your time here is, in part, to give you the respite to recover and the tools to find healthier ways of coping with adversity. It makes me extremely happy to hear that you’re feeling less down now. Of course, we have seen evidence of that in your demeanour, but it was something you had to say for yourself. May I ask what made you realise that maybe things were changing?”

“Last weekend, on Sunday,” Nicole says, knowing that doesn’t really answer the question. “I had a lot of fun with Waverly and Chrissy. I mean, I always have fun hanging out with Waverly, but yeah, it was a good afternoon. I never really got time to do stuff like that at home; I was always trying to sort out everything else, or I was too beat to bother with much outside of school, work, and soccer. Not that I begrudged soccer obviously, it’s still like my favourite thing. But I guess I just thought that not having time to relax was just how it was, but here I get to do school, sports, _ and _ hang out with Waverly and Wynonna. So I guess it just proved to me that I wasn’t striking the balance right back at home, like something was out of kilter with me.”

Curtis chuckles. “You’ve made a lot of good strides here Nicole, but my personal goal is still to convince you to be at least a little less hard on yourself. Waverly is like that too. Always assuming it’s something more _ she _ can do. And to a degree that’s a great attitude – it means you take responsibility. But just humour me for a second here, yeah? What would you tell someone else, someone you cared about and wanted to advise, was the reason why you never got to have any ‘me time’ back at home?”

Nicole pauses for a moment and thinks. Taking Curtis’ brief perhaps a little too literally, she imagines talking to Waverly, who still panics before every test or even sometimes when her homework is piling up, and usually resists Nicole’s attempts to insist that she doesn’t mind helping. Nicole has thought to herself a hundred times that if only Waverly could see that she _ wants _ to help, that she’s happy to share notes so that they can halve the workload, or test Waverly on her French vocabulary, or even do Waverly’s work on the farm on Saturday morning - anything that might ease the strain of Waverly’s immensely busy senior year - then things would be so much easier.

But Waverly tries to do everything herself. She wants to please everyone else and never thinks about just doing the things she wants. She doesn’t want to accept Nicole’s help…

_ Oh_.

Curtis smiles at the moment when he visibly sees the penny drop.

“I’d say it was because they were doing everything on their own.”

“And?” Curtis prompts gently.

“And that’s not really a sustainable way to live.” 

Curtis smiles. “Look, it would be unfair of me to pretend that I always practice what I preach, or that anything we talk about is easy to do every single day. But you do have a lot of the answers yourself Nicole, because you’re a smart, capable person. I hope you are starting to see that none of us want you to lose the essence of what makes you who you are. One thing we touched on a lot at the start, is that you take everything in your stride. You kept telling me that you only did that because you had no other choice. But perhaps you’re actually a very resilient, level-headed person and you don’t give yourself credit for that. That’s a great trait to have, especially when you’re at a point in your education where you need to meet a lot of deadlines and sit some important exams. Don’t think that we _ want _ you to question yourself or to change anything about yourself.”

Nicole nods. “I know, I get it now.”

“I think you always got it, Nicole.”

“Okay, yeah. I did. I knew you and Gus weren’t like, _ really _ punishing me for stuff. But can you at least see how getting moved away from your home – as shitty as that home might have been – against your will, when you literally haven’t done anything super immoral, also kinda feels like you’re being punished for stuff you didn’t even do? When you add in the fact that I’ve always felt like a sub-par daughter even if yes, rationally, I know that my parents were the bad ones and not me, it’s hard not to look at things negatively. It’s not like I ever looked at this program and thought that you guys wanted to do anything _ but _help me, but it’s a lot, you know?”

“It is. It is a lot. Don’t think I can’t see that. Things were against you for so long, weren’t they? Then you get uprooted and sent here, and it feels like even the things that are supposed to help are another hurdle to get over. You may or may not believe me but one of the things my wife and I have both said we truly respect about you Nicole is that you still gave it a try. It was an immensely mature thing to do. Because this program felt like a hurdle, I don’t doubt that, but maybe it didn’t turn out quite like that in practice. Well, I hope it didn’t, at least.”

“Speed bumps and hurdles are different things I guess,” Nicole decides aloud, not really expecting herself to have come to a conclusion like that.

Beside her, Curtis smiles and keeps on driving.

They reach the hardware store half an hour later, and Nicole helps Curtis carry the supplies.

“Will you show me how to fix the treehouse?” she asks as they line up at the cash registers.

Curtis looks mildly surprised at the request. “It’s Saturday afternoon Nicole. Wouldn’t you rather do something more fun?”

Nicole shrugs. “It’d be cool to learn how to do more practical, hands on stuff.” 

“You like to be active, don’t you?” Curtis observes, but doesn’t seem to be making any deeper point. Then, however, he changes the subject. “Perhaps this is a good time to ask about what you see yourself doing in the future? Once you leave school I mean? I can’t imagine just any old job holding your attention for too long. I think you’d need to be challenged.”

Nicole pauses. She hadn’t realised that Curtis had stood so quietly on the sidelines and obtained such a good knowledge of her just by observing.

“Actually, I kind of want to be a cop.” 

“Well that certainly does sound like something that would suit you. Never two days the same – well, perhaps not out here, but where you’re from I’d imagine there’s always something new to do.”

Nicole sniggers. “No. I can’t imagine it’s super varied in Purgatory.”

“All the same, perhaps you should speak with Chrissy’s dad.”

“She’s already suggested it. But I haven’t thought about college applications yet. I figure with no job and no soccer, I need some time to save up.” 

“Well, you’ve still got time to apply. I think you should start looking at courses – if that’s what you want. At first, I had my misgivings about letting you look for work because it seemed like your time here needed to be about making space for you to rest and take time out. I still, to a degree, think that. But I don’t want your time here to come at the expense of something you very clearly want to do.”

“It’s the first time I’ve mentioned it.”

“Very true, but I saw the look on your face when you said it. I won’t make any promises right now, but it’s something you should feel able to discuss with myself and Gus.”

They reach the front of the line, which seems to mark an end to the conversation for the time being.

On the journey back home, however, Nicole spends her time Googling university and college courses and looking up the best pathways into policing.

Once back at the McCready homestead, Curtis takes five and has a cup of coffee.

Nicole loiters about in the living room where Waverly and Wynonna are holed up, bickering about the best way to spend the rest of the day.

When she appears, both sisters look to Nicole as apparent arbitrator.

“I have no idea what you guys are gonna do,” Nicole says when asked what her opinions are on good activities for the rest of the day. “But I’m going to help your uncle fix up the treehouse.”

At this Wynonna quite literally blows a raspberry. “A whole afternoon to yourself and _ that’s _what you choose? All that I spent thinking you’d turn out cool, and you’re really letting me down now.”

“So you’ve said, quite a few times,” Nicole says with a wry smile. “Anyway, it won’t take a whole afternoon, just like an hour or two. And please, excuse me for wanting to learn something practical.”

“When are _ ever _ going to need to learn how to fix a treehouse again?” Wynonna counters, looking sceptical.

“You ever hear of the notion of transferrable skills?”

“Don’t get cute with me, step-kid,” Wynonna gripes, but she is fighting a grin. “You’re a real nerd, you know that? And no help whatsoever on what to do today.”

“I don’t know,” Nicole repeats with a shrug. “Take a walk or something? Go into town? The movie theatre?”

“It looks like rain,” Wynonna says, checking the options off on her fingers, “town will be dead, and the only movies playing are all like four months old and we’ve already seen them online.”

“Then I guess you’re screwed,” Nicole teases, right as Curtis appears.

“You ready?” he asks Nicole, who nods.

“Sure.”

“And you’re sure you want to help out?”

Another nod from Nicole. “Definitely.” She turns back to the sisters. “Good luck fighting boredom.”

She dodges a cushion launched ineffectually by Wynonna, and bundles up in her coat and scarf to follow Curtis out into the backyard.

Despite all her time here so far, she has not actually spent any of it in the McCreadys’ yard. Always, she is in the house or at the farm. The backyard, however, is nice as well; neatly kept if rather sparse given the season.

The old beech tree that holds the treehouse is nearly bare too, having shed almost all of its leaves already. All the same, it looks sturdy and its branches truly are the perfect shape for a treehouse. It is the first time Nicole has particularly paid it any mind, but it really is pretty impressive, especially considering that it was all so lovingly made by hand.

In fact, she can see how it must have been kind of a childhood ideal to have a little den as idyllic as Curtis’ creation. It is pretty large up close, and very obviously well-crafted. There is a wonderfully stereotypical little rope ladder up to the interior, which is pretty cool even now, but must have been an utter wonder to a child’s eyes.

The room is big enough to hold a worn old couch covered in scatter cushions and blankets at one end, and a few mismatched sets of shelves on the other.

A faded, patterned rug covers the rest of the floor and Nicole chooses to sit on it as she waits for Curtis to ascend behind her.

Opposite the couch is a very old, very bulky DVD player and a stack of DVD cases that wholly bely the age Waverly must have been when the treehouse saw peak use. All the _ Harry Potter _ movies are there in order, along with _ Hannah Montana _ and a bunch of Disney and Pixar offerings like _ Princess and the Frog_. There appears to be no screen on which to actually watch these movies anymore, so Nicole assumes it must have been removed as Waverly’s interest in the treehouse waned.

Next to the DVDs is a little portable heater, although Nicole has no sense of where these machines would plug in to get power. On the shelves across the room is a mishmash of classic games – _ Mouse Trap_, _ Operation_, _ Jenga _ – and books, most of which seem to match the intended age demographic of the DVDs.

“What do you think?” Curtis asks as he finally pokes his head through the trapdoor-style entrance.

“It’s awesome,” Nicole says emphatically. “Like, I’d have killed for something this cool as a kid.”

“Well, Waverly deserved it,” Curtis replies, finally hoisting himself up and into the room. “And Wynonna too of course, although she was at that in-between age where it wasn’t quite so exciting. They had a tough time of it, those girls, and I wanted to give them what I could.”

“You did,” Nicole says quickly, not really thinking her response through. “They were so lucky to have you and Gus. You did an amazing job.”

Curtis looks strangely touched by this assessment. He clears his throat a little, both he and Nicole a little awkward at the emotional atmosphere that descends.

“Well...let’s, uh, let’s get on to restoring the old place, yeah?”

Quickly, Nicole nods. Even though talking to Curtis was generally pretty easy, neither of them was especially accustomed to letting too many guards down.

Not mentioning the conversation again, they get to work.

Over the course of the next couple of hours, Curtis teaches Nicole some basic DIY maintenance. It is actually pretty interesting, and very useful.

Nicole has always liked the feeling of being capable, of being able to actively apply skills to problems and fix them. The added element of manual dexterity is also appealing to her and she does a pretty good job of picking up the basics. 

Right as they are about to finish up for the day, Waverly’s voice carries up to them. It is muffled, however, and impossible to understand.

Nicole pokes her head out over the gap in the floor and finds Waverly standing right by the rope ladder.

“Sorry?” Nicole calls down. “We couldn’t hear you.”

“I said we made you guys coffee, and Gus baked a cake. If you want a quick break, that is.”

“We’re done,” Nicole says with a pleased little grin. She felt rather as though she’d accomplished something today. “We’re heading down now.”

Nicole climbs back down first and helps Curtis move all of the tools and leftover supplies back out of the treehouse. They had been forced to work from both the inside and the outside of the structure, so Curtis darts about checking for forgotten nails and other hazards, before joining the girls back on the ground.

As they wait for him to climb down, Waverly says,

“How was it? Did you fix it?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Nicole replies. “It was good, a fun thing to learn as well.”

“It was pretty cool that you wanted to get to know how to do that. I’m useless with DIY, I don’t know what I’ll do in the future when I don’t live with Uncle Curtis.”

“Well if I learn more stuff, you’ll have to ask me _ super _ nicely for help.”

“I mean, I would pay you with constant supplies of cake.”

“Sounds pretty tempting,” Nicole says, affecting an appraising expression. 

“Right? Total win-win situation all round. I’ll watch you put up some shelves or build a treehouse, you get to have cake afterwards.”

“I think building a treehouse is a bit ambitious, but thanks for the vote of confidence. And for the not at all creepy idea of you standing around and watching me.”

Although it is obvious that Nicole is joking, Waverly colours slightly. Admittedly, the tone she had used a moment ago was a little unexpected, but Nicole had taken it mostly as a teasing comment about Waverly letting Nicole do all the hard graft. Waverly’s reaction now, however, was slightly strange.

They are spared the need to unpack this issue too much further as Curtis neatly hops off the ladder onto the grass.

“It’s not _ that _ weird,” Waverly counters, still looking a little pink.

“Hey I don’t judge,” Nicole jokes. “Whatever floats your boat.”

She picks up a couple of toolboxes and saunters off in the direction of tool shed, mostly to have the last say, but also partly because she is one step away from flirting, and she is still resolutely not allowing herself to go there. 

She, Curtis, and Waverly all deposit the supplies in a messy wooden shed near the greenhouse, before traipsing inside and shedding their coats and other outer layers.

Nicole is grateful for the warm coffee and the tasty chocolate cake waiting for her in the kitchen, and polishes off both pretty quickly, before clearing up and pottering off to find Waverly and Wynonna.

She discovers them as she left them, sat in the living room and not entirely settled in the shared activity of watching TV.

Nicole flops onto the couch next to Waverly, happy to listen to the sisters bicker gently over what to watch.

“You know,” Wynonna says, “this would never have happened if you’d made a good suggestion instead of going off to _ fix a treehouse_.”

Nicole holds her hands up. “I’m not your keeper. Why don’t you see if your old console works and play _ Mario Kart _ or something?”

Nicole had seen the object in question gathering dust on the television stand, and was at a loss as to why Waverly and Wynonna didn’t use it more at this time of year, when the short days and cold evenings drove everyone inside.

She did not, however, anticipate the reaction such a suggestion would generate.

Waverly cries, “_why _would you say something like that?!” right as Wynonna laughs ominously and says,

“You’d really be that evil, huh? Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

“I…have no idea why that was so controversial,” Nicole says, somewhat dumbstruck.

“You’ve met her, right?” Wynonna says, indicating at Waverly. “Think things through for a sec, and tell me that playing video games with her is a good idea.”

Waverly does have the tendency to pretty competitive, Nicole realises, and is kind of easy to anger sometimes.

“See?” Wynonna says triumphantly as she watches understanding dawn on Nicole’s face. “One of the worst times we’ve ever fallen out was over _ Mario Kart_.”

“We wouldn’t have if you hadn’t cheated so much,” Waverly says indignantly, crossing her arms.

“It’s _ Mario Kart_, what can’t I do?” Wynonna cries.

“Fine, you played dirty then, whatever.”

“Again,” Wynonna protests, “it’s the game Waves.”

Already, Nicole can see why banishing the video games to a forgotten shelf in the living room had been a good idea.

“Okay, yeah, now I get it.”

“Oh no,” Wynonna says in a voice that is far too chipper and sugary to be genuine. “You wanna give it a try, let’s give it a try.”

Half an hour into the game and Nicole has firsthand evidence of the total error of judgement she had made.

They only have two controllers, so one person has to sit out and watch the other two play a round before someone switches out.

Nicole cannot say for sure which is worse.

What she can say, however, is that Wynonna had been throwing stones in a decidedly glass-like house when she called Waverly competitive. At the very least, when it comes to racing a cartoon vehicle around a range of improbable tracks, Wynonna will do what it takes to come out on top.

She is pretty merciless when it comes to setting obstacles out for her opponent, which only really spurs Nicole and Waverly on to compete harder. However, if nothing else, Nicole will silently acknowledge that Wynonna is resourceful.

On the one hand, playing against either sister is a bit like dicing with death, but watching the two of them oppose _ each other _ is like battle royale. Nicole is usually most competitive against herself, but she would be lying if she said didn’t like to excel in any situation. The desire to outperform both herself and others helps with sports, after all. Wynonna and Waverly, however, both simply seem to have a stubborn streak that will not allow them to give ground to each other.

Nicole has observed Waverly enough to know that she holds herself (and, to a degree, others) to a very high standard that more often than not is impossible to obtain. This, however, is something else. It is not competitiveness in a way that Nicole experiences it, but a sisterly kind of stubbornness that seems to mostly be about good-natured bragging rights. Nicole cannot say how readily this trait would transfer into the rest of the sisters’ day to day interactions (between themselves and with others), but for the time they spend holed up in the living room, winning races becomes a matter of life and death for all three of them.

More than once during their afternoon foray into the world of _ Mario Kart _, Gus comes into the room and asks, not without some frustration, if ‘all this shouting is really necessary’, to which, of course, the girls reply that it very much is.

Happily, no _ real _arguments break out this time, and play comes to a rather underwhelming end when Gus gives them a ten minute notice of eviction from the living room.

“Your uncle and I want to use the television,” she says sternly. “So find a way to work out who wins.”

In the end, it is impossible to say who is victorious, except that Nicole wins the very final round, which happened to take place against Waverly. She feels pretty confidently that this makes her the overall winner, but wisely elects to stay silent on the matter.

As they prepare to relinquish the television to Gus and Curtis, the former announces – rather unconvincingly – that she couldn’t be bothered to cook tonight, and so has ordered pizzas as a treat.

This is a very popular decision all round, and a delivery service that Nicole is surprised even exists out here drops their food around a little while later.

Although they are told they are welcome to join Gus and Curtis, the girls let them have some peace and instead eat their pizzas at the kitchen table. 

They spend the rest of the night together until Wynonna disappears off to do a very late bar shift, and Waverly and Nicole take that as their cue to bustle upstairs and engage in their usual routine of watching movies before going to sleep.

The repetition is sometimes a little predictable, but in honesty Nicole mostly just finds it comforting. It is, she has come to realise, what life with a family looks like, even if (or perhaps especially because) she has had to find it herself.

But, Nicole realises as she and Waverly get ready for bed a little after midnight, it was the McCready family who found her, not the other way around, and in so doing, Nicole thinks they have might just have helped her to find herself.

With such a solid foundation on which to stand, things tick on nicely and November drifts by like sand in an hourglass; smoothly but perhaps a little too quickly for anyone’s liking.

Winter deadlines and impending tests and exams seem to be looming over everyone in Nicole and Waverly’s grade and at all times there seems to be at least one person who is frazzled, tense, and liable to snap at any moment.

For Nicole, however, the nerves feel as though they are intensified by a thought that creeps upon her gradually and takes hold without her realising it. Her performance now, she thinks, will likely be seen as the test of how well she is doing on the McCreadys’ program. She had never had anyone to disappoint – or to make proud – before, but she realises with an unpleasant jolt one Friday night as she studied at Shorty’s bar that she didn’t want to let Gus and Curtis down. They had invested a lot of emotional energy into her progress, and she felt like she owed it to them to do well at school.

She is trying very much not to fixate on that thought, however, and to simply keep treating school as though she has everything under control. For the most part, she does, but it is hard not to let the nerves take hold.

On top of that, she had spoken a few more times with Gus and Curtis about further education. Of course, they were not her legal guardians, so what they said had no final bearing on her decision in a detached, practical sense, but they were both keen for her to apply to college if it was what she wanted for herself, and the thought had spurred her on a lot.

There are a couple of routes into policing that interest her, including a couple of academic options that involve university. Strictly speaking, she could skip those and take a practical route that would, eventually, give her a similar chance at getting accepted into a police academy for the specific training and examinations needed. The sensible, grounded part of her thinks that she should stick to the most cost effective option, but another part of her knows that getting a college degree will open doors to rise through the ranks if and when she makes it onto the force. Plus, depending on the course she picks, it might give her more job options in law enforcement.

She talks this through with a careers adviser during her lunch break one afternoon in the last week of November. Admittedly, the adviser didn’t seem too well versed in the ways to become a cop, but they had access to all the right resources. He prints out enough information for Nicole to feel guilty about her part in global deforestation, chats with Nicole a little about how the academic route makes sense with her projected grades, and answers Nicole’s questions about scholarships and bursaries before printing out yet _ more _paperwork and sending her on her way.

She is rifling through all the papers when she hears rapid footsteps chasing her down the corridor and turns to find Perry Crofte jogging a little to catch her up.

Since that day playing soccer, she and Perry have always gotten on well. He is easily the nicest guy in her Phys Ed class and, arguably, the nicest guy in the grade as a whole besides Robin.

“Nicole, hey, what’s up?” he says when he finally falls into step with her. “That’s a lot of reading.”

“Career stuff,” Nicole says with a sigh and a shrug. “You know, make all your future life decisions before the age of eighteen.”

Perry wrinkles his nose. “Tell me about it. But I do have news which might be a bit more exciting for you.”

“Sweet. Shoot.”

“Did you hear that Tyler got suspended again?”

Nicole assumes that he means Tyler Sanderson, a Class A little shit who is constantly running in similar circles to Champ Hardy and another contender for the shared title of ‘most relentless grade bully’.

“Really? That _ is _ exciting news,” Nicole jokes and Perry chuckles.

“Yes, a bit of respite for us all,” Perry agrees quietly, which shocks Nicole a little. She has never heard him say a bad word about anyone. “But not what I actually meant.”

“Sorry, go on.” 

“Well, we have a bunch of inter-school soccer matches coming up, and he’s been told that he can’t play. Coach wanted to fall back on Olly Bentley but he’s gone and broken his leg, so we don’t currently have a striker. I’ve checked the regulations for the local championship literally eight times. There is no mention whatsoever of the gender composition of the team anywhere. If you can stand some of the shitheads on our team, Coach says you can train with us tomorrow and he’ll decide if you can play for real.”

“_Dude_,” Nicole says, unable to stop herself from chucking Perry on the arm. “Are you serious?”

She comes to a halt in the middle of the corridor, aware that she is the picture of shock and surprise.

“As serious as I can be. I’ve talked you up for a while, so Coach is willing to give it a shot. He and I both agree that the rulebook _ should _ say no multi-gender teams - I mean, purely from the perspective that someone somewhere intended it to do so - but unfortunately for them and fortunately for us, the wording just isn’t there. If they can’t show us where it explicitly states that we can’t have you on our team, we’ll get away with it. People have plead lack of explicit wording before.”

Nicole feels her face split into a grin and she forgets herself just long enough to manhandle Perry into a hug.

“I – shit. This is amazing. Like, the best news ever. Thank you _ so _much – I promise I won’t let you down.” 

She and Perry part ways in time for Nicole to make it to her final class of the day, although she is far too hyped up to take in as much information as she should, especially at such a critical time. 

All the same, she is practically buzzing with excitement all the way out of school and to the house, where she knows Curtis and Gus will be waiting. Now that the weather is growing worse and the first few flurries of snow are on the horizon, their working habits have been forced to change along with the seasons. Although farm work cannot ever be put on hold, much of the work falls dormant as the earth starts to hibernate. It is time for Gus and Curtis to take some small amounts of rest.

Somehow, everyone in the family spots Nicole’s mood a mile away. 

“You look happy, Nicole,” Gus remarks as she passes out the ever present after school cups of tea. “Did you have a good day at school?”

Nicole nods, unable to keep herself from smiling. “Yeah, I got some good news, and I’m kind of hoping you’ll think it’s good news too.” 

“I’m sure we will,” Curtis says, returning Nicole’s smile. 

She and Waverly sit down at the table, while Wynonna waits by the door, clearly not intending to stay too long. 

“Well, Perry Crofte from my Phys Ed class told me that one of the strikers on the soccer team got suspended,” Nicole begins, watching as looks of recognition pass over Gus and Curtis’ faces at Perry’s name. Time in Purgatory has taught her that people really do know everyone here. “He found out I knew how to play a while ago and told me today that the tried and tested replacement has a broken leg, so they need someone else to try out. He’s been on at Coach to let me play, and since there’s apparently no explicit rules stating that girls _ can’t _ play in the school league, I can apparently train with them tomorrow _ if _ I’m allowed.” 

Without any hesitation, Curtis nods. “That’s excellent news Nicole. I’m more than happy to allow that, if Gus agrees.”

Nicole looks quickly to Gus and wants to breathe a sigh of relief at the woman’s expression. She looks happy for Nicole, and it is obvious she won’t stop her trying out.

“Of course I do. Good for you honey.” She turns to Wynonna. “If you can pick Waverly up tomorrow, one of us will get Nicole later.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Waverly says quickly. “I can wait for Nicole’s training to finish. I can sit in the library - I have a History thing I can do.” 

Gus considers this for a second. “If you’re sure, that would be a great help, thank you.”

“Sorry to keep you in school later,” Nicole adds, but Waverly shakes her head.

“Not at all, it’ll be helpful really. And it’s for a good cause, I know you really miss soccer. Well done for making it onto the team.”

“Well,” Nicole says cautiously, “I haven’t quite made it that far yet. I’ve still got to play well enough that they’ll accept me.”

“You will,” Waverly says brightly, eyes shining. “I know you will.” 

  
  
  


As it happens, Waverly is right. Nicole breezes through the training and finds herself adapting pretty easily to the rest of the team’s style of play. It is a bit of an adjustment, because she has always played on the same one team back at home, but realistically she knows that this is part of being a good player. 

They don’t play for quite as long as expected, because the weather is starting to come in cold now, and the short days mean that it is dark before the training even starts. A few flurries of snow bluster around them in a choppy wind, but they persist with soccer until it starts falling in earnest. 

Only then does Coach concede defeat, sending all the students inside, but asking Nicole to speak with him as they walk. 

“Perry promised me you’d play well,” he says as everyone else chatters around them. Neither his tone nor his expression give much away as to whether he agrees. He doesn’t say anything more, however, and seems to be waiting for Nicole to respond. 

“That was kind of him,” she mumbles. 

“Perhaps,” Coach replies. “He’s told me for a while to speak with you about soccer. Now, I wish I had. I hadn’t appreciated you’d be that good. I’d like you to come to the rest of the training sessions this week, but barring any sudden problems, if you’re willing to commit to training and playing matches, then I think you’ll be a good fit.” 

Nicole does her level best to look composed, instead of bursting into an outward show of celebration. She thinks that she might have to cut back on one of her other commitments - likely swimming - but knows that she will prioritise soccer over almost everything else. 

“I am, absolutely.” 

“Well then, in that case, welcome to the team - provisionally of course.” 

“Thank you,” Nicole says, letting a little smile slip. “I can’t wait to play again.” 

They reach the locker rooms at what is probably a fortunate time, because the conversation has petered out in that way of speaking with a teacher one does not really know too well. 

“We’ll see you later in the week, I’m sure Perry will be happy to send you our training and match schedules.”

Nicole nods. “I’ll ask him, for sure. Thanks again Coach.” 

The conversation is clearly over, so Nicole ducks into the locker room and collects her bags. The training session had been too cold and too short for her to really exert herself all that much, so she cannot especially be bothered to hit the showers here or even to change. 

She is the only one in the girls’ locker room, and the silent, chilly room is actually a little bit creepy. Nicole has never been especially easily spooked, but she cuts her time there short all the same. 

Instead, she strolls to the library, which she finds to be quiet and half-lit in a way that seems almost like a hint for everyone to leave. She eventually manages to locate Waverly hidden away in a far corner of the room, past all of the computers and the sparse groups of students - almost all of them seniors - still scattered about. 

She seems to be putting her books away as Nicole turns up.

“Good timing?” Nicole asks as she approaches, keen not to surprise Waverly and make her jump. 

“Perfect,” Waverly answers with a smile as she turns around, “I’m nearly all packed up. I think they’re trying to get us all out by making it impossible to see the books.”

Nicole chuckles. “The thought did cross my mind.” 

Waverly takes only a minute or two more to slide a few things into her bag, before indicating that they should leave. 

“Training finished a bit early,” Nicole whispers as they cross the floor in step. “It’s snowing again. I don’t know if we’ll need to kill a bit of time.”

“Oh, you know Gus,” Waverly counters, volume rising slightly as the library doors swing shut behind them. “She’s always early to everything. I’m pretty sure she’ll already be in the parking lot.” 

Nicole silently concedes that this is correct. She can also acknowledge how nice it is to have that kind of predictability from an adult who is supposed to be in charge of you. A few months ago, she’d never have highlighted that as a particular _ problem _ in her life - after all, her parents’ absences caused so many issues, she had always prioritised the immediate concerns towards her welfare - but she was also starting to contemplate how much truth there was in the idea that you didn’t miss what you had never possessed. She knows, objectively, that it is not especially accurate, but she has decided that it _ is _ possible to be ignorant to many of the things you’re lacking, and this kind of predictability had been one such thing she had never really thought to miss.

Now, though, she is starting to see how nice it is to simply _ know _ that Gus or Curtis or Wynonna will be around for her. 

“How did it go?” Waverly asks as they walk, the darkened corridors now familiar to Nicole after all her post-class extra-curriculars, but still somewhat eerie nonetheless. “The training? Are you a fully-fledged team member yet?” 

“Almost, I think,” Nicole tells her. “It went well, and Coach more or less told me that I was on the team, but he just wants me to hit a few more training sessions first.” 

“I knew it!” Waverly says, sounding genuinely delighted. It makes Nicole feel just as proud as when Coach had delivered the news earlier. It is so nice to have someone like Waverly to share trials and tribulations with. “I’m so happy for you.” 

“Thank you. I don’t want to take it for granted until it’s set in stone, but I’m super happy right now. It sort of feels like something I was still hoping would fall into place.”

Waverly flashes her another smile. “That’s so great Nicole, honestly. Super, super cool.” 

“Thanks,” Nicole says again. “Anyway, what about you? How did the project go?” 

At this, Waverly furrows her brow. “The project?”

Nicole pauses, confused. 

“Yeah, sorry did I get that wrong?” She doesn’t especially like the idea that she might not listen to her friends properly. “You were staying behind to work on a History project, I thought.” 

“_Oh_,” Waverly says, suddenly catching on. Nicole sees a little flush creep over her cheeks. “That. Sorry, I wasn’t following. Yeah, it was fine thanks.” 

Nicole waits for Waverly to go on, and cannot quite believe it when she falls silent again. Waverly loves History, and has grown accustomed in recent weeks to telling Nicole about the class at length. It is surprising, then, when she does not elaborate at all on what she is studying. 

Nicole opens her mouth to make a joke about it when she catches the look on Waverly’s face; unsure and slightly nervous. It is nothing like Waverly normally looks in these circumstances, and Nicole knows on instinct not to push. The two girls have built up a decent rapport of gentle teasing as time has gone on, but it is obvious that now is not the time. 

At first, she feels a little sting of _ something _ that Waverly does not want to talk to her about whatever is going on, but a follow-up inner voice tells her sternly that it is none of her business. She assumes that, true to usual form, Waverly is nervous about the project or about the exams coming up, and has clammed up as she usually does. 

Nicole tells herself that if Waverly wants to talk, she will. Even as she lets the thought settle, however, Nicole knows it is not true. Waverly will not say anything at all. 

Nicole makes a mental note to check in at intervals, and see how it all goes, because there does not seem to be anything more to do in this scenario. 

They walk the rest of the way to the parking lot in silence, and find Gus waiting - just as Waverly had predicted. 

Once they are strapped in and Gus has pulled out of the parking space, she asks her customary questions about the girls’ day at school, celebrating Nicole’s news and receiving the same cagey, subdued answer about Waverly’s homework. 

If Gus is suspicious she keeps as quiet as Nicole, and Waverly changes the subject a little while later to something related to a different class. 

Out of respect for Waverly’s boundaries, Nicole says nothing more about the whole thing, and when Waverly fails to mention the project again in the days that follow, she does her best to write it all off as part and parcel of pre-deadline nerves. Something in her gut, however, tells her that there had been something more at play.

  
  
  


News of Nicole’s promotion to the soccer team travels surprisingly quickly. She supposes that it was only natural, given that a couple of the squad were friends with Champ. The reaction is mixed (or, honestly, just plain disinterested) from most, but for the usual crowd of suspects, any excuse to scrutinise Nicole is fair game. 

She gets a few comments from them about the school changing all its rules just for her - nevermind that there _ weren’t _ any rules that anyone could find - but it seems like her ability to simply ignore the whole group of them makes picking on her far less fun. 

In fact, far more impactful for Nicole are the handful of comments from other girls in the school that they want to try and make the team - or even put together a new one - themselves now that they have seen that there might be support for it. Mostly, this comes from people in other grades, quite a few of them juniors, which heartens Nicole. She offers to help them if she can, which seems to genuinely delight them. 

In the meantime, she takes on the other training sessions with ease, and finds herself thrust into her first game the very next week, inclement weather notwithstanding. 

As they had all predicted, her presence in the main lineup causes something of a stir with the opposition (a school a couple of hours out from Purgatory) who try and then promptly fail to prove that it is against the rules. 

The opposing coach seems to be exceptionally bad tempered about it, and is left feeling all the worse two hours later when Nicole’s team scoop the victory (and Nicole gets her first goal on her new team). At the end of the match she snaps a pretty artful picture of her muddy cleats and sends them Dolls with the message _ guess what I did today?! _

He celebrates her victories - literal and symbolic, by making it back onto a team in the first place - with her on the phone while she waits to be picked up from the playing fields. 

When she eventually clambers into the car, it is only Gus inside, and in truth it makes a nice change sometimes to be alone with her, because although Nicole spends a lot of time with just Waverly or just Curtis, that is sometimes at the expense of solitary time with either Gus or Wynonna. 

Gus, Nicole thinks, is perhaps a little harder to work out sometimes. Her husband is, by his own admission, a simple, straightforward man with no illusions, and while Gus is far from false or insincere, she sometimes seems to play a role a little more than Curtis. She plays it tough far more than her husband, both in maintaining a somewhat futile air of severity around her girls (everyone knows it is just for show), and in generally presenting a harder face to the world. Nicole supposes it is part of what has happened to the Earp family. Waverly and Wynonna’s mother had, after all, been Gus’ sister, and she must miss her too. She had also lost a niece with the death of the girls’ other sister. It was a lot for anyone to deal with, and Nicole can only imagine that, when things were crumbling down, Gus had felt the need to hold things together outwardly to protect Waverly and Wynonna. 

Waverly had said that Gus didn’t like her to talk about what the family had been through, and she had alluded that people weren’t always kind to the Earp girls. It must have been difficult for Gus to see two kids going through all that, and she can only imagine the fate of anyone who talked badly about someone Gus loved. 

They don’t talk too much on the way back to the house, but Nicole likes that about Gus. She has a very comforting presence, the presence of someone who is capable and strong, of someone who is maternal and also not to be trifled with.

They pull up into the driveway, and Gus explains that, due to the time, the rest of the family have eaten, but that there is a plate of food still waiting for Nicole.

“I’ll leave you to eat in peace,” Gus says softly before drifting away. Nicole likes that about Gus, too. She respects Nicole’s need for silence and a little bit of solitude from time to time. 

The house is strangely quiet as Nicole rescues her food from the oven and removes a little dome of aluminium foil from it. 

She is sat at the table with her back to the doorway, half-finished eating when she senses someone behind her. 

She twists around to find Waverly in the doorway, watching carefully and worrying at her bottom lip.

“Sorry,” she says when she meets Nicole’s eye. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be done or not. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Nicole chuckles. “You’re not disturbing me. Ever. But especially not since you’re _ allowed _ in your own kitchen.” 

Waverly tries to laugh, but it doesn’t quite sound genuine. In fact, Waverly looks nervous and perhaps the most ill at ease Nicole has ever seen her. Eventually, she steps into the room and starts boiling the kettle. 

“Is everything okay?” Nicole asks quietly.

“Yes, of course,” Waverly answers briskly, and in a manner that suggests that things are far from okay. “Shall I make you one?” she adds, waving a jar full of tea in illustration.

“Yes, please,” Nicole says, unsure of how to react in this situation. She has learned how to respond to Waverly when they argue, and when Waverly is sad and maybe even a little bit scared. But a version of Waverly that very obviously does not _ want _ to address something is another question altogether. It is clear from her countenance that she is not angry at anyone - least of all at Nicole - but she is very obviously worried about something.

Nicole carries on eating, clearing her plate by the time Waverly has set a cup of tea on the table. She stands opposite Nicole with her own cup in her hand, so preoccupied by whatever is on her mind that she does not seem to realise how long she stands there for.

Feeling a little awkward, Nicole says, “are you _ sure _ everything’s alright?” 

This causes Waverly’s gaze to snap to Nicole’s, and for a moment they stay like that until Waverly speaks again.

“I have to tell you something,” she says eventually, voice strained and words staccato. “But I don’t really know how to.”

“Whatever it is, you can just say it to me” Nicole tells her softly, feeling nervous in spite of her words. She has no idea what this could possibly be about. “I promise.” 

Waverly glances to the door then moves away to shut it, before returning to the table and sitting opposite Nicole, rather than beside her. Something in this gesture more than anything else, makes Nicole worry about what is coming. 

“It’s just,” she begins, looking completely lost. “It’s Champ and Steph. They’ve been saying something about you, and they’ve said it to a lot of people, so I think you should know before you go back into school tomorrow. I just...wish I wasn’t the messenger. It’s so selfish of me, but I’m scared you’ll be mad at me too. But I didn’t...I promise I’d never say anything bad about you. I swear.”

“I’m not gonna shoot the messenger Waves. And I trust you. So it’s okay. Just tell me.” 

Nicole cannot help but give her friend a soft smile. Waverly is so nervous, but Nicole figures that so long as she is still on her team then nothing can really be that bad.

“They’re saying that you’re gay,” Waverly admits after another pause, now staring at her tea as if speaking to the cup instead of Nicole. “I think it was something they’d started between themselves because of Robin. But now with soccer…” Waverly breaks off for another moment. “I’m sorry. They’re idiots.” 

Nicole feels the smile freeze on her face. It is hard to tell whether Waverly thinks there is any truth to the rumour, but if her countenance is anything to go by, she has at least entertained the idea. She gives nothing away as to how the prospect makes her feel, however. 

But then Nicole thinks of what Waverly had just said - _ I promise I’d never say anything bad about you _ \- and her heart sinks to her stomach. 

“How many people have they been saying it to?” Nicole asks eventually, voice quiet.

“I don’t know,” Waverly replies and instantly Nicole believes her. 

An awkward silence settles between them for a long while, and it seems that neither of them is really sure what to say next. Then, at once, they both speak suddenly.

“Me and Chrissy have just walked away whenever they’ve started up about it - ” Waverly says, right as Nicole asks,

“When you say that you haven’t been saying anything bad about me…”

When they interrupt each other, they both stop abruptly, then apologise in unison.

Nicole wants to laugh as they stumble over their own words and each other’s, but this situation feels so far from funny.

“Of course,” Waverly says quickly, responding to Nicole’s question, but misinterpreting what she had been trying to ask. “I’d never spread rumours about you. You know that right? You’re my friend - my best friend - and I mean, with Robin too surely that’s a sign I’d never...I was never a part of that either.” 

“I know,” Nicole replies. “But I mean like, you said you’d never say anything _ bad _ about me.” 

This time, Waverly gets it, and she looks aghast. 

“Oh God, no. That was dumb wording. It’s not a bad thing. I only said that because the others say it like it’s a bad thing when it’s clearly not.”

Nicole nods, and realises that she has come to the point where she has to decide what to tell Waverly. She feels her heart start to race. Lying to Waverly’s friends in her first week here had been one thing. Lying to Waverly herself now, after two months and all they have shared, is another entirely. Nicole knows she cannot lie to Waverly, not about anything. She simply doesn’t have it in her. 

She goes to speak, but struggles to say the words. There will be no taking them back after this. She might ruin everything in the next twenty seconds.

Seeing Nicole’s internal struggle, Waverly jumps in and her own nerves cause her to start babbling. 

“I also want to say, I didn’t tell you this to like, fish for information or anything. You don’t have to say anything about it. I just thought you should know before school tomorrow, and I hate that I’m the one who had to tell you. It’s not like they’d actually know the truth either way and regardless, whatever you...whoever y- ”

“Waverly, it’s okay,” Nicole says gently, cutting her off as an act of mercy. Waverly looks half-relieved to be able to stop talking. Nicole, on the other hand, is still fighting a familiar ripple of fear and anxiety as she steels herself. “I am. I am gay. I’ve always known and never done well at passing as anything else. I’m kind of surprised it’s taken them this long, actually. And also that soccer was the thing that finally did it.” 

Nicole only realises after she finishes speaking that she had not been looking at Waverly at all, so she glances up to check on her reaction. 

Slowly, Waverly nods. 

“Okay,” she says, and it gives absolutely nothing away, so Nicole’s nerves kick in more fully as she tries to fill the silence. 

“If it’s going to be a problem, I can ask your uncle about me sleeping elsewhere. Obviously, I’m not sure where that’s gonna be, but if I need to then I can.”

Waverly’s face falls. “No!” she exclaims, sounding upset. “No way do you get to leave. Do you...do you _ want _ to now that I know?” 

Nicole shakes her head. “No, but if it’ll make you more comfortable or - ”

Seemingly without thinking, Waverly leans closer across the table and takes Nicole’s hand. Her touch is wonderfully soft, and it makes Nicole’s heart skip. It is just what she needs right now, but is also somehow too much to process. 

“Nicole I’m not _ un_comfortable. Is there - I mean...have I ever done anything to make you feel you’re not safe around me? Is that why you’ve never said? Because if there’s anything I’ve said, anything at all, it needs to be sorted right now. Because that’s not who I am and it’s not about me being uncomfortable, it’s about _ you _being comfortable around me.” 

To her horror, Nicole feels tears prick in her eyes. She has never cried when coming out before, and she is in no hurry to do so now. 

When she sees the emotion on Nicole’s face, Waverly looks even more horrified. “Oh no. Did I...was that the wrong thing to say?” 

“Not even slightly. No one’s ever said it to me before though.” 

Nicole uses her free hand to swipe at her eyes, and with a great deal of effort she gets her emotions under control.

All the same, Waverly says, “should we go somewhere else to discuss this?”

Nicole nods. She doesn’t want anyone else in the family to see her like this.

After a strange few moments in which Nicole washes her plate and cutlery and neither of them says a word, the two girls head to Waverly’s room. 

Waverly steps inside first and sits cross-legged on her bed, patting her comforter by way of invitation to Nicole.

Feeling a little better, Nicole grins.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, you know that right?” 

Waverly rolls her eyes. “And you know that _ you _ don’t have to prove anything to _ me, _yeah? Since when has this not been our thing?”

Nicole has to admit that Waverly is right. In recent weeks especially, more of their evening movies have been conducted from the shared space of Waverly’s bed, and during the times they sit on the living room couch, Waverly always manages to wriggle closer and prop her head on Nicole’s shoulder.

She does the same now when Nicole sits beside her, only this time she holds onto Nicole in a hug, too. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs into Nicole’s neck. “Thank you for trusting me.” 

“Well, I do,” Nicole says. “I do trust you. Completely.” 

Waverly hums a little note of thanks, and they sit in a silence that is now much more comfortable than earlier. In truth, though, Waverly is always more than a little obvious when she is thinking things through, and Nicole can all but hear the cogs turning in Waverly’s mind. 

A moment later, Nicole nudges Waverly’s thigh gently with her own. “Penny for them?” 

“Hmm?”

Nicole chuckles. “I can practically hear your brain whirring like it’s overheating. What’s up?”

“Oh,” Waverly says, comprehension dawning. “No it’s nothing, it’s fine.” 

“Is it about what we were discussing?” Nicole asks, something instinctual telling her she is right. She is, however, a little surprised when Waverly doesn’t try to avoid the question. 

“I guess. Kind of. Not in a bad way though. It’s just that I’ve learnt about this whole new part of who you are. Not that it changes anything of course, not like that.” 

“I understand that,” Nicole murmurs. “And it’s okay you know. If you have questions. You can ask them.”

“I wouldn’t want to say the wrong thing,” Waverly counters. “It’s fine.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be the wrong thing.”

Waverly hesitates. “I don’t know…”

“Waves, it’s better for both of us if we just talk about it. I don’t want to worry that you’ve got all this unanswered stuff going around your head.”

“It’s not like that. None of it’s bad or anything.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Nicole says softly. “So why not just ask it?”

“I guess,” Waverly begins, thinking hard. “Like, okay, so you said how you’ve always known. I guess that just fascinates me. That’s really the only thing, and I don’t even know what I want to ask specifically.”

Nicole nods slowly, somewhat understanding the unspoken question. “Okay. Well first off I guess ‘forever’ was a bit much on my part. It’s just that as long as I’ve personally been aware of like, attraction and all those kinds of feelings, I’ve never remotely felt it towards boys. And I was conscious of it being that way, even if it then took me a little while to really have the coming out to myself process.” 

Waverly thinks this over for a second. 

“Can I ask how old you were?”

“When I had the realisation?” Nicole questions. 

“Mm.”

“Sure. I was thirteen.” 

“Wow,” Waverly says, sounding genuinely awed. 

“Wow what?” Nicole asks gently.

“I don’t know. I just admire you a lot. I wish I could be half as certain of _ anything _ as you are.” 

For a moment, Nicole wonders if Waverly is saying this in direct relation to the subject matter of sexuality, or if the remark had been just a general one. 

“If it helps,” she says, not wanting to ask Waverly this directly, “I don’t feel certain of a whole lot.”

“I don’t believe that,” Waverly says with a knowing smile. “Not for a second. You already know so much about yourself. But I don’t even know if I want to go to college, let alone what I want to do for the rest of my life. It took me like sixteen years to officially realise I - ”

At this, Waverly hits the brakes. Nicole feels her stiffen. 

“That what?” Nicole asks, prompting perhaps a little bit more than she should, but aware that sometimes she is not the only one who needs to learn to talk more. 

“It’s literally the stupidest thing ever,” Waverly replies, shaking her head again. “Especially after what you just told me.” 

“I’ll never think anything about you is stupid Waverly.”

This statement prompts Waverly to sit up and meet Nicole’s gaze carefully, and whatever she sees on Nicole’s face must settle her a little because she says,

“I think this is stupid. It sounds ridiculous. But I had this thing where a while back; someone just offhand described me as straight and I had to silently sit there and go ‘oh yeah, I am aren’t I?’ Which is literally the dumbest thing ever. To just suddenly realise it at like sixteen or whatever. I’d kissed boys by that point, had crushes and stuff, but I’d never really ever sat and thought about who I was on any deeper level. And I know that’s partly just straight being the default - when it shouldn’t be, obviously - but it was definitely more than that too. Like I'd never connected my feelings towards boys to anything deeper. Like I didn't feel that immediate identification at all. And if I hadn't had that interaction I don't even know when I would have. It's literally so stupid, right? Especially given that you'd had your whole coming out to yourself process at thirteen."

Nicole considers this for a moment. It certainly isn’t stupid. But it also tugs at _ something _ within her, something that sets off a few suspicions about what Waverly has been thinking. Nicole knows better than anyone that this is not something that can be pressed further, but it also sets a tiny flare off in her belly. Her stomach squeezes and she wonders what the hidden implication in Waverly’s words is - because it is obvious there is something she wants to say, but is keeping tamped down.

In an effort to make Waverly feel better, Nicole says, “it isn’t stupid. Far from it. It took me a while before I actively connected what I felt to like, ‘gayness’ or whatever. I don’t know if that makes any sense? That liking girls was a given but it took slightly longer for my brain to starting associating that with a sense of identity, or the word ‘lesbian’. Sometimes we’re just us, right? And it takes a little while to make the cognitive leap between ‘this is how I feel’ to ‘this is what I _ am'_. Or, at the very least ‘this is how I identify’, because labels are awesome but they’re also not mandatory, right?”

Nicole knows when she sees Waverly’s expression shift, right as Nicole asks that final question, that she has said the correct thing. If Waverly had been trying to initiate some kind of discussion (either in her own mind, or with Nicole) about all of this, then Nicole knows she has laid out the safe, even groundwork for it to continue one day. 

“Right,” Waverly says softly, smiling over at Nicole.

With this, they park the conversation for the time being, but both of them know that, without a doubt, something has shifted inside both of them that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter and about the story so far.
> 
> Until next week, take care!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Another week, another chapter. This one has some very mild homophobia in. I don't think it really requires a tw, but if you're really unable to cope with even tiny mentions, then keep that in mind. 
> 
> There's also some mention of blood/injury, but again it's not too bad.
> 
> The big question for this chapter: what will Nicole do to Champ after all these rumours? Also some proper talking in a fun dynamic with a new name...Wynaught...
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for your response to this fic. It means the world.

The next morning, Nicole wakes with an unfamiliar thrum of anxiety pressing up against her ribs. She is in Waverly’s bed again (Waverly had insisted, and Nicole had wondered whether she was trying to prove a point) so has Waverly pressed tight against her too. One of these, she has no doubt, is significantly better than the other.

Her alarm hasn’t gone off yet, and when she gingerly reaches to pick up her phone – careful of every movement so as not to disturb Waverly – she finds that she has half an hour before her phone is due to wake them. In practical terms, this means she has an hour before she needs to get up, because Waverly needs a good half hour’s notice before she really awakens properly.

Nicole shuts her eyes and tries to at least doze a little while, but her mind only wanders to what might be waiting for her at school today.

She had tried her best to fly under the radar – she wanted nothing less than to be a talking point for  _ any _ reason – but something told her that the rumours would put paid to that. She had not yet decided what she would do if someone confronted her, but didn’t really want to stay forcibly closeted any longer. All the same, she worried for Waverly and, above all, Robin if she told everyone else the truth.

If Nicole had initially been targeted by association because of Robin, then Nicole being gay would almost certainly be the final nail in the coffin for him too. Nicole might not care what others think of her, but she cares what happens to her friends.

She stays in bed – eyes closed and brain whirring – for all of about ten minutes before she concedes defeat and sits up carefully. She rubs at her eyes, and glances down at the lump under the covers that is Waverly. From the shape of it, Waverly is balled up beneath her nest of blankets, one of them pulled up over her head with a tiny gap where, usually, her nose and mouth are just barely visible.

Nicole very gently extricates herself, trying not to wonder at Waverly’s seemingly ever-present desire for closeness, and gathers up her running gear before creeping out of the room. She changes in the bathroom and pulls on her sneakers at the back door.

They still have a few weeks to go before the official start of winter, but no one has told the weather that much. It had started snowing in earnest, and it was bitterly cold outside. Still, Nicole knows where the paths have been salted or gritted, and she knows where is safe to go running. It is not yet so unbearably cold that Nicole’s tenacity is dimmed, and although she is aware that heading out in these conditions is far from smart, she knows she will warm up a little when she runs. More than that, she cannot bear to be still or cooped up when she is like this; keyed up and anxious. It is better for her to work it out of her system, no matter how badly the cold hurts her throat as her breathing steadily grows deeper and deeper.

After the first lap of the property, her body speeds up and her brain slows down and finally,  _ finally _ , she can think things through a little more clearly. With her blood rushing, inconsequential things like the crappy, awful kids at school feel even more distant. The notion of living inauthentically is still something Nicole hates, but it is easier like this to admit that she does not care whether the likes of Stephanie Jones see her authentic self. They do not deserve her truth or her vulnerability. The people who do deserve such things – Waverly, Robin, Dolls, or even Curtis – have them already, and that is what matters.

Nicole is still getting used to having to list the people who count – for so long the number has been small – but now that she has fallen into the orbit of others, she is starting to see in herself a protective, caring streak that will not allow those people to get hurt. Whether Nicole understands it or not, Waverly cares what others think, and Nicole does not want to rock what is already a precarious social structure. Waverly has worked so long to get the target off her back, just as Robin has too.

There are so many variables to the situation Steph and Champ have created with their lack of sensitivity but Nicole realises as she runs that she can only prepare for a limited few. She resolves to stay calm if there are looks or whispers, to ignore any taunts, and to plead the fifth to anyone who asks her if the rumours are true.

By the time she has drawn her conclusions, she has been running for over half an hour, and hedges her bets that Waverly will still be asleep for another fifteen minutes at least. She plumps for a final lap around the grounds, her mind wandering almost of its own accord from thoughts of Waverly sleeping to thoughts and questions Nicole had been resolutely avoiding for weeks.

She forgets, for a moment, to tamp the thoughts down, and she finds herself mulling over the question of Waverly’s seemingly ever-present search for physical contact. Nicole still believes that last night had been Waverly’s attempt to demonstrate that she was still completely at ease in her presence, but that could not explain every other moment that Waverly has sought out Nicole’s touch.

The first couple of times it seemed natural and appropriately (if only mildly) awkward afterwards. After their argument about Champ, after Waverly’s trip to the fall festival with him, it had been about comfort, and then a bone-deep exhaustion that had sent them both to sleep without the conscious decision not to part. They had awoken both times with some surprise that they were still together, and a tiny amount of nervous laughter and unsure chatter, before it had simply felt completely natural. Since then, however, it had simply become a part of  _ them _ . It was easy for them to justify some of the closeness to themselves – Waverly’s television was set up directly opposite her bed, so was at a fairly unworkable angle if Nicole were to watch something from her own bed. That they could probably angle the television differently was never discussed. Similarly, they never talked about the fact that Waverly did not  _ need _ to sit so close on the couch, did not  _ need _ to stick her feet in Nicole’s lap, certainly did not  _ need _ to play with Nicole’s hair…

Always, the contact is initiated by Waverly. Always, Nicole goes along with it.

Without fail, Nicole never lets herself think about it, and she certainly never lets herself acknowledge the butterflies in her stomach every time it happens. 

But after their discussion last night, after Waverly admitting that she has never really thought much about how she identifies, Nicole cannot help but think about it. As a means of self-preservation, she has not yet let herself wonder if this all means anything. She cannot let herself begin to believe it does because, deep down, she knows she wants it to mean something. She knows what she wants it to mean. More than anything, she wants it to keep happening forever, even if she knows it cannot. 

For all intents and purposes, she is going to be in Alberta for a little more than a month, because she still has not deviated from her original plan with Dolls. The idea of staying here has entered her mind once or twice, but the thought scares her too.

All of this evasion, all of this refusing to think about Waverly’s actions or about the decision she must make to stay or to go, is not something that sits too well with Nicole, but it has felt like the only real option for a while now. It is not like she necessarily has anyone to talk to either, because she does not want to bother Dolls with yet more of her problems, and she can hardly mention her quandary about either Waverly or running away to Curtis or the rest of his family.

With this somewhat lonely though rattling round her head, she finishes her final lap of the farm and grinds to a halt at the back door. It is still mostly dark out, but a full moon and a loaned head-torch from Curtis had lit her path well enough. She creeps back inside and leaves her shoes by the door, making her way back through the kitchen.

A moment later, and she has the shock of her life when she all but walks into a dark figure moving towards the kitchen table. She and the interloper both swear very colourfully, and Nicole thanks her lucky stars that the person she has encountered is Wynonna. She would not have gotten away with such language with Gus, and with Curtis it would have been touch and go.

“Wynonna? What the fuck, seriously?” Nicole tries to exclaim while keeping her voice low, standing to one side and quite literally clutching at her chest. It was bad enough that she had exerted herself a moment earlier, but the shock had set her heart racing at a speed that was a little too uncomfortable. “You scared the shit out of me. 

“ _ Me _ ?” Wynonna hisses back. “What do you think  _ you _ just did?”

“I go running almost every morning. Since when have you been awake this early, much less standing around in the  _ dark _ ?!”

Wynonna huffs. “Well, how was I to know you’d be ridiculous enough to still be running in this weather?”

“My regular routine persisting into winter still does not compare to you creeping around in the pitch black,” Nicole whispers.

“I’m not  _ creeping _ , I live here asshole.”

“ _ Whatever _ ,” Nicole says, crossing her arms although the effect is lost as Wynonna probably cannot see it. “Just tell me what you’re up to.”

“I’m not ‘up to’ anything,” Wynonna parrots, deliberately exaggerating Nicole’s tone. Then, as a joke, she adds, “go take your shower you sporty weirdo.”

Nicole considers leaving, but something in the interaction feels off, and it keeps her rooted to the ground. When she does not move, Wynonna says,

“Seriously you’re the one freaking me out now.”

“Why are you up?” Nicole repeats, voice softer this time.

Wynonna sighs pointedly. “I couldn’t sleep  _ mom _ . Happy?”

“Not especially. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Well,” Wynonna says, finally moving across the room and sitting at the table. “I’m not gonna tell you mine even if you tell me yours.”

For a moment, the conversation seems to be over, but for Nicole something very obvious clicks into place. Of course, she cannot tell Wynonna how she feels about her baby sister, and although she probably could tell her about the running away thing, she decides not to. There is, however, something Wynonna might understand better than anyone else.

She takes a deep breath.

“Now I’ve started soccer, Stephanie, Champ, and their motley crew have apparently decided to tell everyone and their mother that uh, that I’m,” Nicole’s resolve falters for a second before she steels herself again, “that I’m gay.”

She feels the mood around them change, and senses the way Wynonna’s attention shifts.

“Ah.” 

“Which, in itself here seems like a problem anyway,” Nicole goes on quickly before she loses her nerve, “but the real issue is that I…um, I am.” 

For a long time, Wynonna says nothing, and after a while Nicole starts to think she has made a grave mistake. She opens her mouth to backtrack, when Wynonna quietly asks, 

"How do you know?”

“How do I know that I’m gay?” Nicole replies, genuinely confused for a second. “It’s uh, pretty obvious to be honest.” 

“ _ No _ ,” Wynonna interjects with a little snort. “I mean, how do you know they’ve started saying this?”

“Oh,” Nicole says, feeling stupid. “Waverly told me. She and Chrissy were there when they did it. She doesn’t think they picked up on it being true, she thinks it was just a believable thing to say since I’m friends with Robin, and I guess there’s a stereotype about girls and soccer and stuff that makes me easy pickings.”

“Little fuckers,” Wynonna mutters under her breath, sounding genuinely angry. It makes Nicole smile for a moment, before she realises she doesn’t actually have the guts to see this conversation through.

“Anyway, sorry. I actually don’t know why I said this. It’s made me nervous about today and I don’t know, I just sort of figured you might…” 

Nicole trails off, not sure if finishing the sentence will offend Wynonna in some way.

“What? Know how it feels?” she supplies, sounding prickly.

Nicole quickly apologises again. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll just…I’ll leave you to it.”

“No,” Wynonna says sharply, and Nicole, who had already made to exit the room, stops in her tracks.

“No, I’m sorry,” Wynonna goes on. “It’s normal to try and talk to someone who understands. I’m the one who’s bad at talking. You’re right, I do know how it feels to be in that school and have all eyes on you.”

“What did you used to do about it?” Nicole asks quietly.

Wynonna laughs, but it does not sound particularly mirthful. “I used to kick their asses, or just walk out of class. Or both. So I wouldn’t recommend you try my methods. You’re a hell of a lot better than me, step kid." 

Wynonna sounds genuinely sad, and it sort of breaks Nicole’s heart a little bit. Wynonna is a lot of things that might rub people up the wrong way; she is abrasive, rebellious, and opinionated. She doesn’t mince her words for anyone except maybe Waverly, and despite what she seems to believe about herself, she is remarkably perceptive. She is a loaded gun, and that probably makes a lot of people nervous. For Nicole, however, Wynonna is kind of a badass. She is straightforward and direct, and Nicole likes that a lot.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Nicole murmurs. “Not at all.”

“Yeah well,” Wynonna says, heaving a sigh, “fortunately for you, you don’t really know the first thing about me.”

“Well, I don’t think  _ that’s _ true, either.”

Wynonna laughs. “Bet.”

Nicole likes her odds, so she sits down opposite Wynonna.

“I think you see a lot of what goes on around you, even when absolutely no one thinks you’re paying any attention. I think you’re even better than me at avoiding the very plain truth that you’ve done your best with the hand you’ve been dealt. It’s taken me until now to admit it, so I’m not saying that to be an asshole. I think, just like me, it suits you sometimes to be underestimated – but it’s probably for different reasons. I think you’re tough as hell but not infallible, but hate the idea that anyone will see that more vulnerable side of you – especially Waverly. I think that you’re smart enough to know that no one really believes that the mask you wear is the real you. I think you’re running from stuff, just like most people are. And I don’t, for a single second, think I’m even remotely better than you.” 

Nicole finishes speaking, and the silence that stretches out between them is the longest one yet.

Eventually, Wynonna takes a steadying breath. “Well, well, well. Someone  _ has _ been taking their AP Psych classes.” 

“Maybe,” Nicole says. “But I mostly just hate to lose a bet." 

“Then I’ll let you have that one,” Wynonna replies, voice quiet. “You’ve been watching us just as closely as my aunt and uncle have been watching you. You’re certainly not like the other ones they've had here.” 

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“It’s neither.”

Nicole nods to herself. She likes that answer.

They sit in silence again. Then, Wynonna says something that shocks Nicole perhaps more than the surprise of bumping into her in the dark.

“I know my sister told you about our father. And our other sister.”

Nicole scrabbles about for something to say. “I – ”

“It’s fine,” Wynonna says quickly. “I wish she wouldn’t talk about it, but in a way I’m also glad she got it off her chest.”

“She told me a shortened version,” Nicole explains, keen for Wynonna to know that Waverly had respected her sister’s privacy. 

“Ah, so she didn’t tell you the real zinger then,” Wynonna replies cryptically. “That explains a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Like why you’re so non-judgemental about me.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“I’m the reason our father is dead.”

Nicole shakes her head. “No, that’s not true. Waverly told me people attacked your house.”

“You don’t understand,” Wynonna says impatiently. “He died because of me. Like, literally. The men had my big sister and my dad. I thought they might come for Waverly too. I grabbed my dad’s gun. I was twelve. I didn’t know what I was doing with it.”

Nicole joins the dots and it feels like someone has physically punched her in the chest. Her heart breaks for Wynonna – and for Waverly too – and for perhaps the first time in her life, she understands what other people might have felt for her when they realised she was so neglected by her parents. Because Waverly and Curtis were right, this wasn’t pity, what she felt for the Earp family. It was just pain, pure and simple, mixed with perhaps empathy and a little pinprick of anger that life hadn’t been kinder to two people she cared so deeply about. 

Wynonna misreads her stunned silence. “See? Now you get to hate me like everyone else does. That’s why I got the stares and the whispers and the bullying. Or, that’s the main reason at least.”

“No, Wynonna. I’ve lived here long enough now to know that’s not true. Your aunt and uncle don’t hate you and, trust me, Waverly adores you.”

“I had to leave Purgatory for a while – lotta reasons, won’t get into them – and it was only then that Waverly worked her way out of the shadow of what happened,” Wynonna explains. “All I’ve wanted since then is for her to have it easier than I did. So, imagine my reaction when I got to hearing that the people she hangs around with are the ones who gave her hell while I was here.”

Nicole allows Wynonna the subject change. It can’t be easy to admit all of this, and Nicole has no doubt that it is a big part of what keeps her awake at night. 

“Waverly sees the good in people,” Nicole points out. “And she doesn’t like to rock the boat. She wants to believe they’ve changed.”

“And yet they’ve gone and done this to you.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe they’re leaving someone else alone, huh?" 

Wynonna chuckles. “And that, young nerd, is how I know you’re gonna be okay today. You’re a good person, Nicole. It’s worth a million of what those assholes are, or ever will be. They don’t see past their front gates; they’re big fishes in this tiny ass pond because there’s not much else going on up there." 

Wynonna taps her temple pointedly, and as the sky slowly lightens, Nicole sees the gesture.

“That’s the thing, though. I’m not actually too worried about me. But it’s like you said just then, about wanting Waverly to have it easier. I’m worried that this is going to mean Waverly gets negative attention too, and especially that Robin might have problems.”

Wynonna sighs and tilts her head down for a second in thought. 

“If nothing else, you’ve proved you were resourceful over the years with all that time making do with the situation you had, not the one you  _ should _ have been given. I think you’re already prepared to deal with this. And hey, if all else fails, you really  _ could _ beat the shit out of them.”

They both laugh, and just like that, it is obvious the conversation is over – probably never to be spoken about again. 

Nicole stands up, ready to make her departure and head for the bathroom. 

“Thank you,” she says, “for listening to me.” 

“Well, thanks for not judging me.” 

“You said I was a good person. I think you’re a good person too, Wynonna. And for what it’s worth, the people who came to your house that night are still the ones who caused all that stuff, not you.” 

In the weak morning light, Nicole sees Wynonna try for a feeble smile. “That’s not true at all – not any of it. But thanks, kiddo.” 

Nicole just bows her head and leaves. She knows from experience that there is little you can say to a good person who thinks that they’re bad. They just have to work it out for themselves.

The first half of the day goes by surprisingly without incident, except for the moment she sees Robin for the first time during second period.

He bustles into Physics with a stricken look on his face, and visibly blanches when he sees Nicole already at their usual bench in the back corner. Probably, he no more wants to be the bearer of bad news than Waverly did.

Nicole puts him out of his misery the moment he sits down and tries to start talking.

“Before you say anything at all,” she begins, “I already know.”

Robin’s eyes go wide. “You do?!”

“Yeah, I do.” Nicole smiles. “But thank you for wanting to be honest with me.”

“How?” Robin asks, dropping his voice as the lesson begins.

“Waverly told me,” Nicole whispers back. “Last night, when I got back to the house.”

Robin studies her face carefully. “Are you okay?”

Nicole nods. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, I think so. Nothing’s actually been said so far today, so it’s hard to tell for sure what’ll happen.”

Robin nods, but does not look entirely convinced. He looks worried for Nicole, which in turn makes her worry too. When the teacher tells them to begin conducting experiments, they use the chatter as cover to talk some more.

“I told Waverly, by the way,” Nicole explains as they work. Unnecessarily, she adds, “that it’s true.”

“How was it?”

“Yeah, fine. Good, actually. She didn’t care. I told Wynonna too, this morning. I thought she might have some words of wisdom for dealing with people’s shit.”

“And?”

“She did, kind of. Mostly she just told me what happened the night her dad died. Which was, like, a lot,” Nicole pauses to fiddle with a piece of equipment. “For her, I mean. She also didn’t really react to me being gay which, now I think about it, is pretty in character.”

“So do the whole family know now, or?” Robin asks, studiously avoiding commenting on Wynonna’s admission. He must know the truth, just as everyone here must know, but the fact that he refrains from passing comment says a lot about him.

“Not Gus,” Nicole says, feeling a little guilty. “I didn’t plan it that way though. I told Curtis when I arrived, hoping it might put him off keeping me, but if I’d left it until now, I suppose I’d be pretty nervous about it after all this time. With Wynonna, it just happened by chance. We were both up early when no one was around.” 

“Makes sense,” Robin replies, momentarily distracted by recording a set of results. “Plus, you don’t owe that truth to anyone, even people who’ve been good to you.”

Nicole gently nudges his shoulder with her own.

“Where were you earlier when I needed a long run in the cold to come to that decision?”

Robin chuckles. “Tucked up in bed. Asleep.  _ Not _ running. Never, ever running.” 

“There’s a lot of that around here.”

“What was the run for?” Robin asks, moving the conversation along.

“Nerves,” Nicole admits. “I was worrying what I’d do if someone asked me if it was true. I don’t want to lie, but I don’t really want this part of myself dragged through the muck by some assholes who mean nothing to me. Like, where’s their thing that makes them vulnerable? Why do they get to keep their secrets? It’s certainly not ever gonna be about being straight.”

“Right?” Robin agrees emphatically. “But at least you’re brave enough to consider not lying. I’m not going within a million miles of that.”

“You’re the smart one, not me. That’s survival instinct over just like, self-righteous anger that people aren’t more accepting.”

“You might think that, but from where I’m sat, I just wish I had an ounce of your bravery.” 

“Agree to disagree?” Nicole says with a wry grin.

“Deal.”

They part ways with an agreement to try and meet up at lunch if they can. Nicole has yet more soccer training, but the coaches always make sure that there’s enough time to eat, so she promises Robin that she will find him in the cafeteria later.

She is as good as her word a few hours later, changing out of her kit quickly and pulling on her jeans and sweater. There had been a couple of training sessions over the recess, so Nicole leaves with one of the girls from her old swimming team.

She is a year younger, smart as a whip, and painfully shy. Some of the more popular girls in her year seem to give her a hard time, so Nicole has always tried to extend a little more kindness than she would in any case. In return, Cassie has always been on decently good, open terms with Nicole.

All the same, Nicole would never have imagined that she would have been the first, and thus far only, person to bring up Champ and Steph’s rumour.

“I heard what the other kids were saying about you,” she says, eyes fixed on her feet and nervous stammer in her voice more pronounced than normal.

“Oh, okay.”

“I don’t know if it’s true,” Cassie goes on, although there is something in her voice that suggests she might have made up her mind already. “But a lot of people in my grade are saying it like it is.”

“Good to know the word is school-wide,” Nicole says with a nervous laugh. It seems to give Cassie a moment’s panic, and she chances a nervous glance at Nicole’s face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s okay, honestly. I’d rather you than someone I don’t like.”

“It’s just that um,” Cassie looks over her shoulder, checking that they are completely alone. “I think I might be a – a – lesbian. And even if you’re not, I figured you might understand how they’re all saying it. Like it’s awful, or dirty. I never saw it like that, even if I knew it wasn’t something I could just go and say. But I never thought they’d be like this about it. I never thought I’d have to be scared.”

She throws a heartbroken, terrified look in Nicole’s direction and it makes Nicole’s blood boil.

This wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“It’s not awful, and it’s not dirty. You’re fine, just as you are. Okay? We both are.”

Cassie smiles and nods, picking up on Nicole’s confirmation. “Thanks. I knew I could tell you. But you won’t tell anyone else, will you? I don’t want people to know.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Thank you. I just wanted to know I wasn’t alone.”

“You’re not, so come talk to me yeah? If you need to? Don’t deal with it alone.”

“Thanks Nicole. Seriously.”

Nicole is just about say that Cassie has nothing to thank her for, when they round a corner towards a secluded stairway, and find it occupied by six or seven of the boys from Nicole’s grade.

Among them is Robin and, to Nicole’s horror, his lip is split and pouring blood onto his hoodie.

The boys all hear Nicole and Cassie approach, and when Robin meets Nicole’s eye he seems to be silently imploring her to turn back around and go.

Nicole, however, is not easily cowed. Calmly, she looks from person to person, taking in each of the faces in front of her. She is not surprised to see Champ Hardy, nor is she shocked that a few people from her soccer team are here.

“What’s going on?” she asks, almost as though the boys are sat around discussing yesterday’s news.

“Nothing that concerns you,” one of the boys, Austin, says. “So I’d keep walking if you don’t want a lip that matches Jett’s here.”

“What?” Nicole replies with a snort, “are you gonna give it to me?”

She curls her lip and gives Austin a bemused, appraising sort of look. She isn’t remotely scared of him.

“If I were you I wouldn’t wait around to find out,” Scott Jenson says. He is Cassie’s brother, and for the second time today Nicole feels her chest hurt, this time for the sad, scared girl beside her.

“If I’m going then we all are,” Nicole replies. She looks at Robin and, like this a completely normal situation, says, “so come on. There’s not much of the lunch hour left.”

Robin, however, stays rooted to the ground. It makes Scott laugh.

“This one stays, but you girls can both go now. Especially you, Cass. Be careful who you hang around with from now on; this one’s already caught something foul off Jett.”

Something in that word,  _ foul _ , is the final straw for Nicole. She hears the blood rushing in her ears, and knows what she is going to do, even as she looks to Cassie Jenson and has it confirmed. The younger girl’s face is a strained mixture of shock and hurt as the painful realisation that she cannot trust her brother with her true self sets in.

Then, Nicole looks to Robin, his lip swelling and dried blood flaking on his chin. He looks scared and a little bit ashamed.

“What did you say?” Nicole asks Scott darkly, working hard to stop her voice from shaking with anger.

“You heard him.”

This comes from Champ Hardy and a tiny part of Nicole celebrates that, of all of them, it is him that she is going to get herself suspended from school for. The rest might not be worth it, but the satisfaction she will get out of what she is about to do to Champ will be priceless.

She turns to face Hardy directly. “Yeah, I heard him. I’m asking him if he – or any of the rest of you – wants to repeat it.”

“I don’t remember any of us inviting you to this little conversation with Jett,” Champ points out. “So either you leave now, or we make you.”

“If you’re planning on sticking around with Robin, then I’m afraid you’ll have to make me.”

Champ snorts. “You really want to get into this? For what? Him? He’s the reason everyone reckons you’re a  _ lesbian _ anyway.”

Champ spits the word ‘lesbian’ the same way so many people have before him. The way that has left so many other people afraid to say the word, afraid to sound dirty. It only makes Nicole clench her fists, ready for what is about to come.

“No, he’s not.  _ You  _ are. You’re the ones who’ve spread rumours about me, because you’re so bored of your own selves that you’ve got nothing else to do. But you picked the wrong person, because I couldn’t give a fuck what other people believe about me. I’ll get into whatever you want because Robin’s my friend, and I feel bad that you guys probably don’t even know what that means.”

“How does it feel, Jett,” Austin interjects. “Having a girl come to your rescue?”

Scott shoves at Robin, trying to provoke him more. “Well, she’s not  _ really _ a girl, is she? Not when she’s one of your lot.”

“Nicole, just go, please,” Robin says, looking on the verge of tears. “They’re not worth it, they’re not worth you risking getting into trouble.”

If Nicole has learnt one thing from her time in Alberta, it is that the people she has met – the ones who have shown her love – absolutely  _ are _ worth it. Some people are worth getting into trouble for, Nicole just took a while to realise that her parents aren’t among them.

“What was that? We’re not what?” Austin asks, and so quick it even manages to shock Nicole, he makes a fist and punches Robin once, hard. Austin makes contact, and Nicole winces. Robin is going to have a black eye to match his bloody lip. “We’re worth more than you.”

“If any of you believe that, you’re even more stupid than everyone thinks you are,” Nicole says, deliberately poking at Austin’s temper. He lunges at her next, and everyone gasps when she moves and drives a defensive elbow into his stomach.

Absurdly, everyone looks to Champ as (the world’s most incompetent) leader.

“Don’t say we didn’t give you a chance to leave,” he warns.

“Don’t worry,” Nicole replies brightly. “I won’t.”

Champ shoves her once and she would have kept her balance if not for the bend in the stairwell, creating the landing which all of them occupy. She stumbles backwards and falls. As she tries to get back up, Champ manages to land his first hit near her temple. She feels a sting and knows the skin has split when she feels blood spatter on her forehead. Champ aims a kick at her which, even on the floor, she dodges, and when he lunges over her a second time, she doesn’t even hesitate. She drives a hard punch right at his face and feels the reverberations of a sickening crunch as the force of their combined momentums intensifies the impact.

Champ lets out an angry howl – kind of like a wounded bear – and staggers back. When she sees him, even Nicole is shocked by the damage.

If Robin’s lip had looked bad, then it is nothing in comparison to the blood spurting from Champ’s nose. It is surely broken, and he is left looking dazed and a little out of it. Nicole cannot bring herself to feel remotely bad about it.

_ That _ , she thinks, _ is for Waverly and Robin  _ ** _and_ ** _ me _ .

The commotion finally attracts the attention of a teacher – one Nicole does not recognise – who comes rushing over a moment later and calls for calm. She marches them all to the Principal’s office and leaves them there as the reception desk attendant rushes to alert the senior staff.

The Principal stalks out of his room a moment later, takes one look at Robin, Nicole, and Champ, and sends them all straight to the nurse. 

Nicole and Robin get their cuts cleaned as they sit sheepishly side-by-side, and Champ is left to pinch his nose and tilt his chin down for a moment. He sends them both an ugly glare from across the room, and Nicole sends a similar look of contempt back.

When the nurse, who is a plump, motherly sort of woman, bustles out to fetch some dressings, Champ withdraws his hand from his face.

“ _ Disgusting _ ,” he spits, but the effect is somewhat lost as his injury makes him sound like he has a rotten cold. “Both of you.”

He is forced to keep his tirade to a minimum as his nose starts bleeding again, and the pitiful state of him makes Nicole laugh. She tries to bite her lip and hold it in, but her shoulders shake and draw Robin’s attention.

“Don’t,” he mutters, but Nicole cannot help herself, and soon Robin joins in on her silent bout of giggles. They manage to make themselves seem appropriately sombre just in time for the nurse’s return, as they both know it will do them no good to appear too pleased with themselves.

“Well,” the nurse announces when she finished up. “You’ll both live. All three of you will, in fact. But you’re going to have quite the headache,” she says to Nicole, before turning to Robin. “And you, son, are going to have a shiner on that eye of yours. But neither of you needs stitches, so you two are free to go. The Principal is expecting you in his office, so don’t even think about sneaking off.”

They both thank the nurse and collect their things before heading silently back to the Principal’s office and knocking on the door. Nicole has never actually met the Principal before, and for all her bravado earlier, she starts to grow nervous as he invites them inside with a stern look on his face.

They both sit down and try not to balk as the Principal observes them for a while.

He has to be at least in his late fifties, his hair greying around the temples. He seems to have perfected the art of looking perfectly disappointed, and has also mastered the pregnant pause in a way that manages to strike fear even into Nicole.

Eventually, he starts to talk.

“You know, it’s never a nice day when I get new, unexpected faces in my office. Especially ones in as sorry a state as yours.”

Neither Nicole nor Robin says anything, although Nicole believes that they both look suitably contrite.

“Now, to hear your peers tell it,” the Principal goes on, “the two of you single-handedly started a raging fist fight with six of our most athletic senior boys, for  _ no  _ reason at all.” At this, he pauses and unless Nicole is very much mistaken, the corner of his mouth twitches. “But given that a few of them are also regulars in this office, I have reserved my judgement. I’d like the two of you to explain to me what happened. Robin, if you can start by telling me why  _ you _ were in the stairwell by the swimming pool.”

“I was walking one floor up from where the fight happened. It was a while after class finished,” Robin says quietly. “I knew Nicole would be training so I stayed longer in the music rooms, practicing guitar a bit. My one at home needs new strings and I can’t afford them right now. I always meet Nicole for lunch, and figured she’d be about done with soccer, so I went to meet her. I passed the locker rooms, right as the guys were coming out. They saw me, said some stuff to me. Then they got me to go down the stairs out of sight, punched me in the face. They wanted me to fight back but before I could just try and leave, Nicole and Cassie were there.”

“And what was the stuff they said to you? Why did they punch you?”

Robin blushes a deep, dark red. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

After an excruciatingly long silence, the Principal finally takes pity on him.

“Would it be accurate to say that you’re still having the same problems you faced earlier this year?”

Looking thoroughly miserable, Robin glances at his knees and nods.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is this the first time it’s happened since we last talked about this?”

“No, sir.”

“And why haven’t you told anyone?”

“It won’t make it any better. It didn’t the last time they beat me up. They still say all the same stuff - they never stopped, they just got more careful about it. I just want to get on with things until school’s over. It’s been better too, since Nicole got here. They still say all the same crap, but it’s nice having someone who’s on my side.”

Nicole is shocked and more than a little touched to hear Robin say this.

The Principal, however, takes this as a moment to give Nicole an appraising look. For a moment, Nicole thinks this will be her cue to start speaking, but instead the Principal turns back to Robin.

“All the same, I’d like you to speak to the counsellor at least once please, Robin. You’re free to go, so ensure you sign up for the next available slot before going straight on to your final class. Your teacher has been warned that you’ll be late - you won’t be in any trouble.” 

Looking dumbfounded, Robin starts to rise out of his chair. “And I’m not...now either? In trouble?” 

For a moment, it looks as though the Principal wants to smile. 

“No, Robin, you’re not.”

At this, Robin collects his bag and bolts for the door, before seeming to remember that he is leaving alone. At the last minute, he pauses and throws a look over his shoulder at Nicole. She gives him a smile that she knows looks weak at best, but there is hardly anything Robin can do. Looking worried, he leaves, shutting the door gently behind him. 

Once they are alone, the Principal gives Nicole a careful once-over. 

“Nicole,” he begins, voice deliberately even and calm. “We’ve not met before, have we?” 

Nicole shakes her head. “No sir.” 

“I must confess, that’s on me. I’m not necessarily proud of it, but I’ve become rather accustomed to Curtis McCready’s kids being marched up to my office multiple times in their first weeks here. But that didn’t happen with you, did it? And now I fear I’ve dropped the ball. I apologise that this is the first time we’re meeting.” 

Nicole gapes. She was not expecting to be given an apology, but rather to have been asked for one.

“Thank you sir.” 

“But I do have to say, I’ve never known one of Curtis’ kids to integrate so smoothly, only to get into this kind of trouble weeks - no, months - down the line.” The Principal pauses and huffs out a pensive little sigh. Surprisingly gently, he says, “tell me what happened, Nicole.”

“It’s like Robin said. They’ve been spreading rumours about us and it just followed on from that. I’d left the locker rooms after soccer, and bumped into Cassie Jenson. We were walking down the stairs and came upon Robin and the others. Robin was bleeding - it was obvious someone had hit him. The other guys said some crap to me, and told me and Cass to leave. I said I wouldn’t go if they didn’t let Robin go with me. Robin told me that the other guys weren’t worth me getting into trouble for, and that made them mad. Scott hit Robin, then he tried to hit me. Then, Champ pushed me down and  _ did _ hit me before I could get back up. He went to do it again so I just lashed out on instinct. I was trying to defend myself.” 

This, Nicole can acknowledge to herself, is not entirely true. She  _ had _ , to some degree, provoked the boys and she had certainly taken pleasure in knocking the smile off Hardy’s face after everything he has done to Robin and Waverly. All the same, she would never have sought out a fight with him, so while she has no intentions of outright lying, she is also going to try out some damage limitation. 

She does not regret her actions; she would do the same all over again if it meant standing by Robin and showing Cassie that she didn’t have to listen to all the crap those boys had said. However, Nicole would be lying if the reality of the situation hadn’t started to set in. She would not be able to get away with this without some form of repercussion, and she was certain that Gus and Curtis were not going to take the news well. 

“I was unaware that it wasn’t just Robin struggling with rumours,” the Principal says after taking a moment to mull Nicole’s story over. 

“I’m not struggling with them,” Nicole counters. “It’s just a thing that’s happening. A new thing.”

“And what’s happening, is it comparable to what Robin has been through?” the Principal asks diplomatically, and it must be the most roundabout way anyone could have asked if there were rumours going around on the subject of Nicole’s sexuality. 

Nicole is not about to complain, however. She is in no hurry to discuss this in any great depth. 

“Yes, it is.” 

“Okay. Well it’s something we will address.”

“I don’t want a fuss. That’ll only make it worse.” 

“Robin felt the same. But we can’t simply let it go on unchecked. I’ll work with our counsellor to find a middle ground, but we will need to intervene.” 

Nicole nods, sensing that there is little point in arguing. “I understand.” 

“As for the rest of what you’ve said, it may not surprise you to hear that it differs from the story Mr Jenson and his friends have told me.” 

Nicole tries and fails to hold back a scornful laugh. Of course this doesn't surprise her.

“I also spoke to Cassie,” the Principal goes on, undeterred by Nicole’s reaction. 

“Yeah well she’s Scott’s sister.” 

“Yes. I spoke to her on her own. Her story matches yours completely.” 

Nicole finds herself shocked and knows that it must show starkly on her face. 

“You thought she might stick up for her brother?”

“Yeah well, I mean. She has to live with him,” Nicole points out. 

“That she does, which no doubt means she knows him better than either you or I. But, truth be told Nicole, I know that you didn’t start that fight today, and I know Robin didn’t either. But you  _ did _ hit someone, and it’s very likely that Mr Hardy will need to go to the hospital. I hope you understand that, self defence or not, we still have to take this seriously.” 

“I know that Champ is probably going to go to the hospital, but I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. What was I supposed to do? Let him keep punching me instead?” 

“Nicole, I do understand. But we will no doubt be hearing from his parents very soon, and they will want to know that we’re addressing the whole situation thoroughly. I can assure you, that with what you and Robin have told me - corroborated rather comprehensively by Cassie - the boys will fare rather worse that either of you.”

“They won’t though, will they?” Nicole asks, her voice hollow.

“What does that mean?”

“They’re not the ones already on some court order. I am. They probably won’t see it as ‘wrong place, wrong time’, and even if they do it probably won’t matter. Please sir - ”

“Nicole, my hands are tied. I’m sorry, but you hit someone. Badly. I’m going to ask that you take a day tomorrow, we’ll call it a suspension but I will consider carefully how we can ensure that this does not impact on an otherwise very good record. I may not be able to let this slide, but I can see that you’ve made excellent progress here. This seems to be a blip, but with the record we were sent, well, we do have to act accordingly.”

“I never got into a single fight at my old school!” Nicole protests. “What happened there has nothing to do with this.” 

“I know that your record was more related to truancy but all the same…” 

“If I can’t come to school tomorrow I’ll have to tell Curtis,” Nicole says, resignation hitting her as she realises that the Principal will not be swayed in his decision.

“I have already spoken with Mr and Mrs McCready over the phone. They are aware that you won’t be able to come to school tomorrow.” 

Nicole feels her heart sink like a stone. 

Gus and Curtis are going to be mad, and probably really disappointed in her. 

The thought of it hurts, not least because disappointing others was not something she ever had to worry about in Ottawa. 

A wave of frustration sweeps through her and it makes her want to cry in anger. She digs her nails into her palms. When she says no more, worried as she is that she will cry if she tries to speak, the Principal takes this as a way to conclude the discussion. 

“We will need to follow up on this Nicole, particularly in relation to the accusation of rumours being spread. For now, however, I think you’ve sat here long enough. You seem to be well aware that this is not something to ever be repeated, so I’m not worried that we need to take any further action.”

_ But still worried enough to exclude me _ , Nicole thinks bitterly to herself. 

“Okay,” she says instead.

“There is only a short time left before the final class finishes. Please collect your things from your locker and wait to be taken home. I want to see you back in school the day after tomorrow. No sooner, no later.” 

“Fine,” Nicole mutters, taking a bit of a risk that her tone won’t get her into further trouble. 

For a moment, the Principal’s lips press together in a thin, displeased little line, but if he is angry at the backchat he lets it slide. 

Nicole slouches out of the room and does as she is instructed. She has barely had to stand around by her locker for five minutes when the bell rings and, quickly, she jams a beanie on her head so that her cut isn’t visible. 

Soon enough, Waverly appears and sorts out her books. When she is ready, they leave together. 

“How are you?” Waverly asks brightly, giving no indication that she knows the first thing about how Nicole spent her afternoon. 

“Okay,” Nicole replies, struggling to put on a brave face about it all. She is dreading walking into the house soon, knowing that Gus and Curtis will be on her the moment she has taken her shoes off and walked into the kitchen. 

Hearing her dull, lacklustre tone, Waverly gives Nicole a concerned look. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. How was your day?” Nicole asks, desperate to change the subject. “How did your practice French test go?” 

“Oh, yeah it was alright actually thanks. I got all my vocab right, and only made one tiny mistake with the - ”

Waverly cuts off abruptly as they walk across the parking lot. 

Nicole glances at her. “What is it?”. 

“Shit is that - do you think that’s my aunt in the car? It doesn’t look like Wynonna. Why do you think she’s not come to get us today?” 

Nicole’s stomach gives an almighty nervous twist and she casts her eyes about for one of the McCready’s cars.

She spots Wynonna’s truck in a bay close by and, sure enough, Gus is behind the wheel. 

Nicole feels her heart start to hammer as she tries to think of a response, but they are so close to the truck that, thankfully, Waverly does not seem to expect an answer to her question. 

They are barely inside with the doors shut when Waverly asks,

“Is everything alright?” 

Nicole, currently focussing far too much on putting her seatbelt on, risks a quick look towards the front of the truck. She regrets her decision more or less instantly, however, when she spots Gus watching her in the rearview mirror, her expression nothing less than thunderous. 

“Well, everything is fine with me, yes,” Gus says stiffly, which is of very little help to Waverly. 

She glances to Nicole, presumably to see if she is equally confused. 

“Is it Wynonna? Did something happen with her?” 

“Wynonna is fine,” Gus replies, her tone still cold. 

They pull out of school and drive in terse silence for nearly fifteen excruciating minutes before Gus speaks again. 

“Is there anything either of you would like to tell me about your days?” 

Poor, confused Waverly very visibly wracks her brains to work out what might be the source of the tension in the van. Eventually, she must draw a blank because she says, 

“No, I don’t think so. I had a practice French test though. I was just saying to Nicole that I got all my vocab totally right, but I made a couple of stupid mistakes at the end. I hope that doesn’t happen on the real thing.” 

“It won’t, I’m sure,” Gus says, tone softening for a moment before she returns her gaze to Nicole via the mirror. When Gus goes on, her tone is sharp again, and Nicole almost wants to flinch. “And you? Anything you want to say to me?” 

Nicole stares back at the reflection of Gus’ eyes and forehead for a moment, trying to formulate a response that she will not have to repeat all over again in around twenty minutes when they are back at the house. In the end, she decides she is already in trouble, so she has nothing to lose. 

“With absolute respect, I don’t want to have to say everything twice over. Can I just say it all once, back at the house?” 

Gus’ eyes narrow for a moment, and Nicole braces herself for a sudden onslaught of bad temper. In the end, however, Gus merely nods.

“Fine,” she says tartly. 

After she falls silent again, Nicole feels something nudge her foot. It is Waverly, tapping at the side of Nicole’s shoe with the toe of her boot.

She mouths something at Nicole, who cannot really understand. She would hazard a good guess at what Waverly is trying to say, but is happy putting off having this conversation with anyone she currently shares a house with. 

Following a few unsuccessful attempts at communication, Waverly jiggles her phone pointedly, before unlocking it and typing something out.

Seconds later, Nicole’s own phone lights up, and she opens a message from Waverly that simply reads  _ ‘what’s going on?! _ ’ 

Nicole looks over at Waverly and shakes her head before typing  _ ‘can’t really speak here. Too much to type up. I’ll tell you later. _ ’

Waverly looks as though she is going to protest, but they make a left at the final junction before the farmhouse, and she seems to realise it is pointless. 

When they all walk into the hallway fifteen minutes later, Gus turns to Waverly and immediately sends her upstairs. 

“Your uncle and I need to talk to Nicole. Please can you go to your bedroom and we’ll let you know when we’re done.” 

Waverly looks to Nicole and sees the expression - no doubt a mixture of frustration and resignation - on her face. 

“But - ”

“No. No ‘buts’. Upstairs please. Now.” Gus waits for Waverly to obey, before she turns to Nicole and says, “Curtis is in the kitchen, I’ll be there in a moment.” 

Accepting her fate, Nicole follows the indirect order to go into the kitchen, where she finds Curtis sat at the table in his usual spot, a completely unreadable expression on his face.

Nicole stands near the doorway until Curtis tells her to sit down. She hesitates, but Curtis insists.

“We need to talk, Nicole. I’m sure you know why. So you will need to take a seat.” 

Nicole concedes right as Gus arrives. She stands behind her husband and Nicole glances pointedly between them. 

“I’ve just told Nicole she needs to sit down for this conversation love,” Curtis says to Gus. “Would you be alright keeping this all on the same level?” 

Gus nods, still looking at Nicole, and when she replies it is the gentlest she has been since she first spoke to Nicole. “Yes, you’re right. Of course.” 

“Well, Nicole, I know you know what we need to talk about, so I won’t beat around the bush. We were shocked and very disappointed to get a call from the school today to tell us that you’ve been disciplined and excluded from class.”

Abashed and particularly stung by the way Curtis had mentioned his disappointment, Nicole keeps her eyes fixed on a spot on the table directly in front of her. The wood grain creates the effect of a little eye, and she fancies that it is Gus, staring her down in the car. 

“Would you like to tell us what you’ve been suspended for please?” Curtis concludes.

“No,” Nicole says softly. “But I have to.” 

She hesitates, and eventually Gus says, 

“Well? We’re waiting.”

Still not meeting anyone’s eye but the one in the table, Nicole tries again to get the words out. When they come, they arrive as a whisper. 

“I punched Champ Hardy in the face.” 

When she says no more, Curtis says, “And do you want to tell us a little bit about  _ why _ you punched someone?” 

All of a sudden, Nicole feels tired, almost as intensely as when she first arrived in the McCreadys’ house. She thinks for a few moments on how she can tell the most abridged version of this story, then realises that it will almost certainly involve explaining why Champ and the others had wanted to pick on her and Robin in the first place. 

The idea of getting into it, particularly with Gus who, Nicole assumes is oblivious to all of this stuff, feels like a mountain she cannot be bothered to climb. Realistically, it will not change the outcome; she is still going to be in trouble, no matter what. 

She does not speak for a while, and Gus and Curtis seems to take her silence as disobedience.

“If you don’t, we’re going to have call the school back up. I’m pretty sure the Principal will still be there,” Curtis says. From his tone, Nicole can tell it is not a threat, exactly, but she presumes it is some form of leverage. “And I don’t think that’s the best thing at all.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult, I swear. I just...don’t know where to begin,” Nicole admits sadly, and watches as Gus frowns and looks, for the first time, more concerned than angry. “Maybe it  _ is _ for the best, actually.”

“Okay,” Curtis says eventually, sounding, if anything, even more disappointed than before. “Well, we can’t force you to speak, but we’d appreciate your honesty.”

“I’m not trying to be dishonest,” Nicole says and this seems to bring the discussion to an effective close. She is asked to go upstairs until the phone conversation is over. 

A moment later, Nicole traipses up the stairs and into the bedroom, where she finds Waverly sprawled out on her bed, phone in hand and textbooks seemingly forgotten beside her on the comforter. 

Waverly glances up urgently as Nicole sits down heavily on her own bed, her mind swimming and her head pounding. 

Her voice incredulous, Waverly exclaims, “are you kidding me? Like, are you actually kidding me right now?”

Nicole holds in a sigh. She cannot have this conversation many more times. 

“Waverly, look. I can ex-”

“You  _ broke _ Champ Hardy’s nose. He’s in the hospital. He texted Stephanie and told her not to tell anyone, so obviously we all know.” 

“I know, but listen it was bec-”

“You  _ legend _ .”

“I - what?” Nicole asks, doing a literal double take. For the first time, she realises that Waverly’s shock is not because she is mad. In fact, upon closer inspection, she looks positively gleeful. 

Waverly gets up from her bed and throws herself across the floor and onto Nicole’s comforter, before manhandling her into a burly, enthusiastic bear hug. The moment ends just as quickly as it started when Waverly pulls away again to look at Nicole properly, her face split into a wide, disbelieving grin. 

“You  _ actual _ legend,” Waverly repeats, still grinning. 

Nicole finds she barely has time to process Waverly’s reaction. It was completely at odds to everyone else’s responses, as well as Nicole’s expectations of what Waverly might think or say. 

“Something tells me you might be the only one who sees it that way.” 

“Are you kidding? I bet half the school have been waiting for these guys to be put in their place. The last time it happened was probably when I gave him shit for locking Chrissy in that Porta Potty and that was  _ years _ ago.” 

“So long as it doesn’t make things worse for people…”

“It probably won’t. I mean, you broke his damn nose,” Waverly parrots, apparently still utterly in disbelief. “How hard did you have to hit him for that to happen?” At this, she glances at Nicole’s hands. “Wait. Did you hurt yourself? Did  _ he _ hurt you? What actually happened?” 

In spite of how serious this all still feels, Nicole cannot help but laugh. 

“That’s a lot of questions.” 

Waverly shoves at her. “Yeah. And I want  _ all _ the answers. Right now.” 

“Bossy.”

“ _ Nicole _ . Don’t deprive me of the best story this school has ever had.”

Nicole laughs again, before tackling Waverly’s questions in order. She glances down at her own hand and realises for the first time that her knuckles are starting to bruise. The moment she notices the damage, her hand starts to throb. 

“I guess I did hurt myself a bit, yeah.” She sticks her hands out and flexes and bends her fingers. Waverly mirrors her, reaching out a hand to Nicole’s, gently brushing her fingers back and forth over the reddish purple patches springing up. 

At Waverly’s continued instance, Nicole then goes on to tell the whole story, adding in the most detail of any time she has told it before. With Waverly, it is easier to give more context. With Waverly, it is possible to talk more about the rumours and the anti-gay stuff that had fuelled the whole thing. The only part she leaves out is what Cassie Jenson had said before the fight, because that was not her story to tell. 

“At the time,” Nicole concludes, “I didn’t care what the consequences were, I just did it. But now, I don’t know. I don’t regret it, but this could really screw me over, what with all the truancy stuff I’m here for in the first place.” 

“But you were defending yourself, right?” Waverly counters. “And like you said, Cassie told the Principal that. They’re not gonna do anything for that.” 

“Well I’ve already been suspended for tomorrow.”

“One day?” Waverly checks and Nicole nods. This makes Waverly laugh. “A day of rest for being a legend, clearly. One day’s exclusion isn’t a thing. It’s just because they have to tick a box.” 

“That’s what the Principal said, and maybe that’s fine for squeaky clean people. But your uncle’s gonna have to report on this once he finds out the whole story. It could get me in serious trouble.”

“You haven’t told Gus and Curtis this wasn’t your fault?” 

“No. I didn’t want to get into the whole ‘everyone thinks-slash-knows I’m gay’ thing. He’s speaking to the Principal now, so really I’ve just bought a stay of execution, but it was probably worth it to get out from all the scrutiny for ten minutes. Plus, it literally  _ is _ my fault. The boys kept telling me to leave, but I refused, knowing what that would cause. I knew full-well it’d start a fight.” 

“Still, Champ hit you first. He would have done it again. You had to stop him.”

“Yeah. I mean, I laid the self-defence thing on thick at school and it’s not a lie, not exactly. But God, I knew I wanted him to get his comeuppance. I could have walked away, gone straight to get a teacher to help Robin, but I knew when I refused to leave what it meant. I’m not totally innocent; even if I’d never have started a fight with him, I accepted one. I’m not proud of myself, and I don’t think it makes me a legend. In fact, I’m starting to think it just means I’m no better than him.”

The more the story sinks in, the more Nicole is angry at herself for resorting to physical aggression. 

“Nicole, everyone in school knows what those boys are like. You are in no way the same as him. You’re a million times better. At least, for what it’s worth,  _ I  _ think you are.”

“Well,” Nicole says with a smile, “it’s worth a lot.” 

“I also think you’re the coolest person I know,” Waverly goes on. 

“I think we both know that’s not true. I just wanted people like Robin and Cassie to know that none of us have to be passive observers if they give us shit. We can stand up for ourselves. Just...I should maybe have stood up for myself in a different way.” 

Waverly laughs and shakes her head to herself. “And with that, I rest my case. I’ve never met anyone who stood up for themselves and others like you do. People around here, they never normally speak up for others. Something I never told you but...that night I went to the fall festival with Champ? One of the reasons I felt I could tell him to get lost is because of you. I think, maybe, if I’d never met you, I’d wouldn’t just be justifying people like Champ, I’d be dating one of them. Or, worse still, Champ himself. But I’m not. You made me realise that I get to say ‘no’ to all this stuff. And sorry, but that’s  _ super _ cool. You’re gonna be an amazing cop.” 

Nicole feels her eyes go wide. She would never in a million years have thought that Waverly stuck it to Champ a few weeks ago because of her. “You really think so?”

“Oh, I  _ know _ so.”

“And you really meant all of that?”

“Every word.” 

It is for this reason that when, in the next moment, they both hear Gus call Nicole’s name in an obvious instruction to go back downstairs, she doesn’t feel quite so scared as she might have done. 

Still, it is with a glum sense of resignation that Nicole makes her way back to the kitchen, where she finds Gus and Curtis much as she left them, only this time with the portable landline phone on the table in front of them. 

They wait very pointedly for her to sit, before Curtis looks to Gus. 

“You know,” she begins after a moment in which she very obviously struggles to find the right words. “I can’t condone anyone under this roof hitting another person.” 

“I know,” Nicole says. 

“It would seem Champ Hardy was sent to the hospital.” 

“I know, Waverly just told me.” 

“You did quite a thorough job on him, Nicole.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

“To him?” Curtis interjects, sounding surprised.

“Maybe not to him. Not entirely. But for causing trouble for you guys, and probably for how bad it got for him. I didn’t know I had that in me. But now I’m just as bad as him.” 

“Well,  _ we _ didn’t know that he and his friends had hurt both you and Robin Jett before you hit him back. In self-defence, no less. You should have told us that, Nicole. You stood up to someone who, from what we’re hearing, sounds like a bit of a bully. Certainly, he upset one of my kids, even if Waverly still refuses to tell us much about it,” Curtis says. “I’m glad you can acknowledge that violence isn’t an answer, and as Gus has said we can’t condone it, but this changes a lot.” 

“Why didn’t you feel you could tell us the whole story?” Gus asks gently.

Careful to keep her tone soft, Nicole replies, “I think you know why.”

Gus nods. “I do. We want you to know you can talk to us about things like this, about the...the things that were being said about you.” 

“It only started yesterday,” Nicole replies, aware that this is not strictly relevant. 

“All the same,” Gus goes on, “we know we’re not your parents - ”

“I mean, I definitely wouldn’t have talked to  _ them _ ,” Nicole says with a scoff. 

“Well, we’re not them, but we do want to help. If this happens, or something else like this happens, you  _ can _ come to us. And, also, it bears saying that, as with our girls, if what they’re saying were to be true...that’s okay too.” 

Nicole glances to Curtis, and Gus notices the look between them. She is trying to be kind, and it seems unfair that she is the only one who doesn’t know now.

“It is. True.” 

“Okay,” Gus says evenly and looks to Curtis, who fails to look remotely surprised. “Were you aware?” she asks him, but does not sound put out or accusatory.

“Nicole told me when I first picked her up from the airport. It wasn’t my thing to share with anyone, even the people I love and trust the most.”

For a moment, Nicole expects Gus to be offended, but there is no hint of it on her face or in her voice. 

“I understand.”

“And?” Nicole asks, needing something from Gus before she can really trust that it is all okay.

“And nothing, Nicole. This is who you are, and we’ve said from day one that this program is not about remarking upon or changing that on a fundamental level.”

Nicole nods, sensing that Gus is not being reticent or hiding some sort of prejudice but instead genuinely has nothing to say. “Okay. Thanks. Also, just so you’re aware, Waverly warned me yesterday about the rumours, and I told her then. About me. I told Wynonna this morning.” 

Both Gus and Curtis make tiny noises to show they have heard. 

“What about everything else?” Nicole asks, although she is not sure she wants to know the answer. 

Gus and Curtis exchange a look.

“We’re not going to tell you that what happened was okay, but we aren’t going to be imposing any punishments,” Gus begins with a wry smile, “so interpret that how you wish. You will need to do something with your day tomorrow - we don’t expect it to just be a day off for you. Curtis  _ will _ need to keep this in your file, but we won’t be escalating it, so it’s likely it won’t be picked up for a while, if at all. We don’t envisage any serious problems coming out of this, but we want you to catch up on all the work you miss tomorrow, okay?” 

Nicole cannot quite believe that it is as easy as that. She feels almost fraudulent, or like she should have had some sort of punishment but she isn’t about to start asking for one. She agrees to Gus’ terms quickly, just in case she changes her mind. 

With that sorted, things go back to normal remarkably quickly. Nicole is sent off to do her homework and Gus puts the finishing touches to dinner. 

Waverly and Nicole are seated at the table and chattering away when Wynonna all but bursts into the room.

“You  _ broke _ Champ Hardy’s  _ nose _ ?” she exclaims by way of greeting, looking directly at Nicole. 

“How the hell have  _ you _ heard about that?” Nicole cries.

“Don’t give me this kind of deflection,” Wynonna protests. “Just tell me it’s true. Please God, tell me it’s true.”

“Wynonna,” Curtis says, a note of warning in his tone. “We’ve spoken with Nicole about how it’s not a desirable course of action, even if under the circumstances it was understandable.” 

Wynonna ignores Curtis as though he was not in the room. “Step kid. Did you or did you not punch that little shit in the face?” 

“I did,” Nicole confirms, trying to look and sound suitably sorry about the whole thing. 

Wynonna collapses into her chair with an air of triumph about her. She looks to Waverly, who is barely concealing her own smile.

“Legend. Absolute fu -  _ effing _ legend.” 

Nicole cannot help it. She looks from one sister to the other, and she laughs. 

Maybe, just maybe, it really  _ had _ been worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, listen. Hear me out. I know we all love the 'oblivious Wynonna' trope, but at times Wynonna can be very observant and perceptive, far more than fanon gives her credit for. 
> 
> It was very satisfying to write Nicole punching Champ, and writing her being happy about it, but I think she'd also reevaluate quickly and be pretty annoyed that she sank down to his level. What do you guys all think? 
> 
> Also, I fully acknowledge that I know nothing about the Canadian school system or how they'd deal with this kind of incident. It's probably a pretty easy ride for Nicole/Robin but hey...can I plead artistic license or no? 
> 
> I'd love to receive your feedback. Until next week, take care.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Me again. Back like a bad penny.
> 
> As ever, and at risk of sounding like a broken record, thank you all SO much for your comments on recent chapters of this fic. It really means the world. I can't believe people read my stories and give me even /more/ of their time by telling me what they enjoyed about them.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and that it is suitable repayment for all your kindness.

If Nicole had ever hoped to slip through her senior year in high school unnoticed, then fighting with Champ Hardy and coming out on top had well and truly put paid to that plan. 

Multiple people - including Chrissy Nedley and Perry Crofte - send her messages that same night to either dig for information or outright congratulate her, and she receives so many friend or follow requests on social media that, in the end, she just switches her phone off vibrate and onto silent. 

“See?” Waverly remarks when Nicole mentions this to her right before they get into bed. “This just proves mine and Wynonna’s point.”

“I didn’t do it for clout though,” Nicole points out, frowning. “I don’t want attention for anything, least of all for this.” 

“It’ll die down, especially since you won’t be in school tomorrow, and Champ won’t be either.” 

“I hope so,” Nicole murmurs as she climbs into bed and gets comfortable. “Because this isn’t fun at all.” 

By the time she wakes up the next morning, however, her social media still seems to be just as busy. She continues ignoring it all throughout breakfast, instead mulling over what the day might have in store for her. The weather seems to preclude a lot of farm work, though she does wonder if she will be made to freeze in the stables or greenhouses at least for a little while. 

She is therefore shocked when, instead of anything remotely strenuous-sounding, she is told that she will be accompanying Wynonna for the morning who will, on this occasion, be dropping Waverly into school. 

“She’s going into town afterwards,” Gus explains, “to run a few errands for me. You can help her.” 

Gus hands Nicole a shopping list and a sealed brown envelope, stating that the latter is to be dropped into the municipal centre. 

Just like the night before, it all seems a little too easy as they pull up at school and Waverly hops out of the truck. It feels strange not to be going with her. 

“I kind of hate you both right now,” she says from the sidewalk, sending both Wynonna and Nicole a mock glare as she peers into the truck. “I’d much rather run errands than sit and do more practice exams.” 

“Shut the door will you,” Wynonna quips with a smile, “you’re letting all the warm air out and  _ some  _ of us have a drive to do.” 

Nicole laughs.

“ _ Assholes _ ,” Waverly mutters, before making a show of slamming the door and stalking off. The effect is lost, however, when she pauses after a few paces and throws Wynonna and Nicole a smile and a jolly wave before hurrying into school and out of the cold. 

“I still don’t really know how excluding kids is a punishment,” Wynonna remarks as they pull away. “I never wanted to be in that place, so the fact that getting into trouble meant I went there less was kind of a motivating factor, not a deterrent.” 

“It does seem strange,” Nicole agrees, thinking that she probably wouldn’t care at all if she wasn’t already under a microscope. The Christmas vacation is still a month away, and everyone would kill for a break. 

“Although I guess that only works when Gus and Curtis don’t send you on boring assignments like this.” 

“I don’t know,” Nicole counters. “I expected this to be a hundred times worse.” 

“I don’t think they actually wanted to punish you, to be honest,” Wynonna says, switching between radio stations as she drives. “Don’t say anything, but they’ve been pretty hung up on whatever went down with Champ and Waverly the other week. Obviously none of us know, and I’m not fishing for information but they only really settled down when I told them that Waverly had spoken to you about it. I think they trust that if it had been like, extra extra bad, you’d have had the sense to act accordingly.” 

“That wasn’t what yesterday was, just so you know.” 

“I guessed as much. Bet it still felt good though.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think ‘this is for Waverly and Robin’ when it happened. But it doesn’t feel as great as you’d think. I don’t think he’ll learn anything, and it sucks that it even has to come to throwing punches.” 

“I guess,” Wynonna says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “But I think you’re just far too much of a goody two shoes.”

“I think the court order I have says otherwise.” 

“Don’t think that says anything about who you  _ actually _ are. You’re actually a nerd, don’t get ideas above your station,” Wynonna says, and although it is obvious she is just engaging in some friendly banter, her words actually sit with Nicole.

No one has ever said it so plainly before, that what lead Nicole here isn’t an accurate reflection of who she is or what she wants. At first, it seems odd that it came from Wynonna but then, when she thinks back on their conversation from the day before, Nicole realises it makes perfect sense. 

“Pot, kettle, black maybe?” Nicole jokes.

“We’re scrutinising you right now, not me,” Wynonna jokes back. “We did enough of that yesterday.” 

“Then let’s just...not scrutinise anyone at all today, yeah?”

Wynonna grins. “I like that plan.”

  
  
  
  
  


As predicted, hanging out with Wynonna is absolutely no punishment at all, even if she is such a whirlwind that she does, at times, exacerbate Nicole’s headache.

Champ had landed a pretty good hit on Nicole’s forehead, and as the nurse predicted it has been niggling at her since yesterday.

All the same, being around Wynonna mostly gives her something else to focus on.

They stop off at a drive-thru coffee place on the way into Purgatory, Wynonna buying them a large coffee each, as well as a selection of doughnuts to share.

Before they leave the lot, Wynonna makes a point of raising her coffee cup in a mock salutation, waiting for Nicole to clunk her own cup back as if they were clinking two glasses together.

“To punching assholes in the face,” she jokes, taking a sip of coffee.

Nicole just laughs and helps herself to a raspberry doughnut.

They make a dent in the food as Wynonna drives to a rather small supermarket on the outskirts of town and they bicker good naturedly as they meander around the aisles, Wynonna forcing Nicole to push the cart.

They pick up everything on Gus’ list, add a large number of impulse purchases from Wynonna, bag it up, and – all told – are back in the car in well under an hour.

“Just one more stop to go,” Wynonna says as she turns the car key in the ignition. As they drive, she says, “half the time, there’s never anywhere to park here. If I drop you off, can you run this into the front desk?”

Nicole nods, but silently rather hopes that there will be a space, as she half-suspects that, with such vague instructions, Gus’ envelope may find itself in entirely the wrong person’s in-tray.

It is obvious before they even pull into the parking lot, however, that there is nowhere to leave the car. Resigned to her fate, Nicole hops out of the truck and jogs towards the main entrance, while Wynonna tries to find a place to wait that will not cause an obstruction.

Nicole passes through the municipal centre’s front door and into the blandest and most nondescript public building corridor she could possibly have imagined. It is worryingly lacking in signage, so Nicole walks to the first reception desk she sees, realising that she will just have to hope someone can help her.

The sound of her footsteps clicking on the tiled floor attract the attention of a man behind a desk who had, a moment before, evidently been searching for something on the staff counter behind the public divider. Looking to be about Curtis’ age and with a thinning, greying moustache, he studies her carefully for a moment. She wonders if he has someone he does not recognise walking into his place of work very often.

“Can I help you kid?” he asks as Nicole approaches the wooden desk.

Nicole gestures to the envelope. “I’ve been asked to drop something off, but I’m not sure who to give it to.”

“Is it yours?” the man asks, reaching out for the envelope.

“No, I’m just passing it on for Gus McCready.”

At this, a flicker of recognition passes across the man’s face.

“Nicole?” he asks, waiting for her nod before sticking his hand out in greeting. “Randy Nedley. Chrissy’s dad. She tells me we might have a future cop in you?”

Feeling rather formal, Nicole shakes his hand. So  _ this,  _ she thinks, is the town’s Sheriff. Nicole is not sure what she expected, or whether this man subverts or upholds any such expectations. He seems nice enough though, watching and listening carefully when Nicole tells him that yes, she had been thinking of going into law enforcement.

“And you’re from the city, yes?”

Nicole bites back a smile at this. Everyone she met around here seemed to ask this question. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the nearest city, it was always just  _ the city _ , as though growing up in a metropolis is some ubiquitous concept that held no space for variation or individuality. She has always been half-tempted to try turning the concept back around on them – to perhaps try to suggest that being from a tiny town in The Country is much of a muchness – but has not yet had the nerve. People here seem quite proud of their lifestyle, quite defensive of it, and she cannot be sure that – like Waverly – people will realise that she is not applying certain negative stereotypes to them.

Instead of delving any deeper on this topic with, of all people, Chrissy’s dad, Nicole simply answers the question with as simple an affirmative as possible.

“Well, if you grew up thinking of being a cop after time in the city, you might find what I do here pretty boring, but if there’s anything I can help you with – any questions I can answer – just let me know. It’s not often we get people out here wanting to join the force and, with respect to them, those who show an interest don’t always have…what’s required. Chrissy speaks very well about you though, and as a general rule I tend to trust my daughter with these things.”

Nicole wracks her brain for a moment, sure that there would normally be a million and one questions she would want to ask an actual qualified cop, but her mind goes blank in the moment.

“Well, if you think of anything, just speak to Chrissy,” Sheriff Nedley says when Nicole explains her predicament. “Or if you want to spend a couple of days of your Christmas vacation up here, I’m sure we could swing that for you, get all the clearances and everything. I can show you what we do. In fact, we always need extra hands about the office, but they never seem to materialise.”

Nicole wants to accept, but realises with a sad pang in her belly that she will probably fall at the first hurdle.

“I’d love to,” she begins, throwing in a ‘sir’ for good measure and rather endeared by how Chrissy’s dad seems to appreciate it. “But I don’t think you will get the clearances. I’m here with Mr and Mrs McCready, so…” she shrugs, assuming that, as with everyone else she meets, he will connect the dots.

Chrissy’s dad makes a pensive, thoughtful sort of noise. “Hm. I wouldn’t be so sure. My daughter tells me – inadvertently, mind – that you’re really very good at the class you share with her, and I’m on friendly enough terms with Gus and Curtis to ask after the kids they work with. If Gus McCready thinks highly of someone, I tend not to worry too much about them. Based on how she speaks about you, I’d imagine you’re getting glowing reviews written about you. If you’re here, then whoever sent you here  _ wants _ you to succeed. So, if you’re genuinely interested, speak to Curtis, get his permission. Then, tell him to speak to me. We can always ask the question, can’t we? The worst they can do is say ‘no’.”

A little dumbfounded at this turn of events, Nicole finds herself nodding rather mutely. After a second, she collects herself and says,

“I will, thank you sir.”

“Of course,” Chrissy’s dad says with a smile, before reaching out to take the envelope Nicole had forgotten about entirely. “And if you like, I can pass that on for you. Gus mentioned she needed to send some paperwork in.”

Nicole hands the envelope over and fumbles through a final moment of small talk before, with another word of thanks, she makes her leave.

She hops back into the car a minute later, and sits in silence until Wynonna catches the look on her face.

“What just happened to you?” Wynonna asks with a snort. “I know there’s some weird and wonderful stuff that happens in that cop shop but I’ve been here this whole time and I didn’t see a single person get dragged inside kicking and screaming.”

Nicole shakes her head. “I think Chrissy’s dad just offered me a job. Or at least, sort of a job. Work experience, at the very least.” 

“Go in with some paperwork, come out employed, huh?” Wynonna jokes, sounding amused. “Can’t believe I’m living with a wannabe cop.”

“Hey,” Nicole counters. “You might need a woman on the inside.” 

They have come to a stop sign, so Wynonna takes her chance to punch Nicole hard on the arm. 

“Okay, for that, I’m totally never bailing you out,” Nicole says with a huff, rubbing at the throbbing spot on her arm. She’d never admit it, but Wynonna throws a good punch too. 

“Don’t think I’d ever rely on you for help,” Wynonna counters. “So keep that kind of sass out of my car.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be rid of me soon,” Nicole points out, thinking to herself trying to ignore any invasive thoughts about just _how_ soon that could be. 

“Can’t come soon enough,” Wynonna replies, but it could not be more obvious that she is joking. 

The rest of Nicole’s day passes by quickly. She and Wynonna head back to the house and, until lunchtime, manage to more or less get away with doing nothing but watch the kind of daytime TV that is so absurd as to be extremely entertaining.

Gus calls them into the kitchen a little after midday for some warming soup and crusty bread, before announcing to Nicole that she will be spending the rest of her day in Shorty’s. 

“I’ve offered to get the bar ready for tonight,” she explains, pausing to blow on a spoonful of soup. “And I suppose really I ought to make you come along and help a little.”

She puts the spoon into her mouth and eats before adding, as an afterthought, “but bring some books with you so you can study for your exams.”

It leaves Nicole in no doubt that no one is mad about yesterday’s events, and gives her a good means of getting ahead on some of her work and freeing up her evenings for soccer, or even just relaxing. 

At Shorty’s, she is too young to do bar work (for which she is grateful) and instead assists with cleaning and washing up in the back kitchen after the lunchtime crowd gradually disperses, leaving only the regular ‘all-day’ crowd in their wake. 

Things grow quiet, and Gus relieves Nicole and sends her to an empty booth in a far corner of the room with the instruction to look over everything she has learned in her classes so far this semester. 

The revision has the somewhat paradoxical effect of making Nicole simultaneously more terrified and more confident about her impending examinations. 

Studying now, just days and weeks before sitting a variety of assessments – some real factors in her final grade, and some just helpful mock ups – things feel a little more real. With the support of the McCready family and the implication from many sources that she both could and should apply to university, Nicole is starting to feel the weight of school achievement in a way that is suddenly rather different to the norm. She has always been competitive enough to want to do well, but the stakes feel higher now. All the same, as she studies, nothing is like a bolt out of the blue, nothing feels unexpected or completely impossible.

It is odd, in a way, this feeling that maybe she really can do this. 

She has always sort of believed in herself in an abstract sort of a way, but her odds have always been so fundamentally terrible that she had never particularly thought that people in her situation – capabilities aside – could actually succeed. There were simply too many barriers. Now, however, the only barrier (outside of the money needed for higher education) would be her own intellect and her own ability to perform under pressure. 

When it comes to snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, however, this is not precisely Nicole’s first rodeo (she has, after all, always got by in a pinch), nor is it the first time Gus has coached her kids through finals season. When Shorty turns up at the bar at around five o’clock, she chats with him briefly before sitting herself down on the seat opposite Nicole, who is conveniently finishing a set of notes on basic Psychopathology. 

She sets her pen down and thanks Gus for an enormous glass of soda. Gus has a coffee cup of her own and picks it up with a playful look.

“Just time for this before we head back and I get some food on the go for you all.” Gus leaves an appropriate pause before she gestures to Nicole’s notebook and asks, “how is it all going?” 

Nicole nods and flips aimlessly through the pages. “I think I’ve gone through everything the exams are going to cover. Now I just have to make sure it sticks up here.” 

She taps at her head and Gus smiles. 

“I have no doubt that it will. You’re a smart kid. But I also want you to know that I can see how hard you’re working, and I’m already happy that you’re simply doing your best. I want to tell you the same thing I said to Waverly last week when we were together: Curtis and I are going to be proud of you – both of you – no matter what grades you get. All that matters is that we see the effort you’re putting in.” 

Nicole stares into the depths of her soda for a moment, trying to wrestle with a thick blanket of emotion that wraps itself around her. No one has ever told her before that they’ll be proud no matter what – the closest has always been Dolls, who praises her effort at soccer even if she has a bad match. 

“It matters though, doesn’t it?” she asks quietly, “the grades I get.”

“Perhaps in certain ways, yes,” Gus admits, “but not to me. Or to Curtis.” 

“But it’s what shows that your program works. You put in all this time and effort for me and others like me, this is like…the demonstrable proof that it was all worth it. I want to give them – and you guys – that proof too.” 

Silently, Nicole thinks, _I want you to be proud for a concrete reason, not just because you are_, but she does not say this to Gus. Nonetheless, it is this soundless admission that cracks her resolve, and a couple of tears spill out of the corner of her eyes. She considers that maybe she isn’t batting away the pressure as effectively as she had thought. 

“Nicole,” Gus says gently, and then says nothing more until Nicole meets her eye. The other woman is wearing a soft little smile that Nicole has not seen before, although the expression looks right at home on Gus’ face. 

In an act of open tenderness that Nicole had not expected, Gus reaches out and wipes Nicole’s tears off her cheeks. 

“This is the proof, Nicole,” she murmurs, still smiling. Her eyes are shining in a way that belies just as much pride as her open admission a moment earlier. “This is the part that proves it was – is – all worth it.” 

Gus’ words have the direct opposite effect to her actions, and Nicole’s cheeks are wet again in a matter of moments as she cries a little more. 

“I know you won’t ask it of me, but I’ll say it anyway,” Gus goes on. “I promise that Curtis and I will be proud no matter the outcome of your finals. We are already proud of the very tough, very kind young woman who, completely without really realising it, makes us smile every day, just by being who she is. So please, keep trying hard at school, keep up all your good work, but don’t do it for us. Do it for you; for everything you deserve in the future.” 

Nicole wipes her eyes and nods, but knows that she will tackle the next days and weeks head-on for the McCreadys just as much as for herself. 

  
  
  
  
  


Gus drives them both home after they finish their drinks, and by the time they arrive at the farmhouse no one would guess that they had shared such a weighty little moment earlier. 

Nicole excuses herself upstairs to change out of her jeans, and Gus heads straight for the kitchen, where most pre-prepared components of what appeared earlier to be a fairly sizeable dinner are in need of heating up. 

It is nearly six o’clock, long enough for Waverly to have been home from school for a couple of hours already. Nicole is surprised not to find her at the kitchen table, but supposes that, without the oven on, the kitchen is no warmer than her bedroom. 

Keen to tell Waverly all about her conversation with Chrissy’s dad, Nicole bounds up the stairs, not taking any particular care over the loose, squeaky floorboards and making quite the racket as a result. 

All the same, when Nicole walks into the bedroom, she finds Waverly in a strange and unexpected station on the floor by her bookcase, in a manner that is altogether far too suspicious as to be unremarkable. 

In fact, she finds Waverly not in a nest of blankets on her bed, but rather sat cross-legged on the floor by her bookcase, surrounded by a circle of open books and hunched somewhat suspiciously over a notebook Nicole has never seen before. 

There is an air of secrecy about the whole thing, and this is reinforced when Waverly visibly jumps at Nicole’s entrance before very conspicuously slamming her notebook shut. 

Not expecting this interaction, Nicole had already launched into a greeting and an immediate exclamation that Waverly was not going to believe what had happened earlier that day. She does not quite get to explain any further, however, and instead grinds to a halt when she sees the look on Waverly’s face. There is a flash of fear, mingled with something that looks like extreme guilt, before Waverly tries to neutralise her expression entirely. 

“I was at th- are you alright?” Nicole asks quickly. Waverly immediately goes bright red.

“Oh, yeah, of course. What were you about to say?” 

“Why are you on the floor?” 

“No reason. So, your day away from school, it was good then?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Nicole says absently, all thoughts of the town’s Sheriff banished. There is just something strange about Waverly’s demeanour, about the mood in the room in general, and Nicole finds herself probing without meaning to. 

“Are you doing homework?” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Waverly tells her, not sounding at all convincing. 

“Even when they’ve mostly got us preparing for finals?”

“Yeah, I’ve still got a couple of late assignments. But they’re boring, so tell me about your day instead. Did something happen?” 

Waverly asks this very earnestly, and Nicole cannot help but smile fondly down at the other girl. Even now, after clearly being caught red-handed at something, her curiosity still outweighs all else.

“I spoke to Chrissy’s dad. He wants me to ask Curtis if I can go see what the cops do there. It sounded like work experience, but maybe I’ll even get a little paying job for college.”

At this, Waverly beams and it makes Nicole’s chest go tight. “You did? That’s amazing! I bet Curtis will let you go in a heartbeat.” 

“I hope so,” Nicole says, shrugging and forgetting momentarily that there had been an odd mood in the room a moment earlier. “But I know you never find your assignments boring. What are you working on, History?” 

She bends down to look at Waverly’s books, genuinely only thinking to take a mutual interest in Waverly’s day. It is the wrong move, however, because Waverly immediately goes to hide her reading material. 

In spite of herself, Nicole feels a little sting of offence that Waverly is so desperate to hide something from her. At the same time, the recent strange interaction in the school library suddenly makes more sense to Nicole.

Perhaps this shows on Nicole’s face, because Waverly clears her throat and says,

“Sorry. I just...my family don’t know about this research.” 

“Okay,” Nicole replies, drawing the word out. “So does that mean it’s not a school thing?” 

Waverly glances at the closed door, looking uncertain and eventually shaking her head. 

“I - I’m really sorry Nicole. I can’t. Not here.” 

Nicole furrows her brow. This isn’t like Waverly at all, and Nicole cannot help but wonder if Waverly has gotten herself into something she shouldn’t. Admittedly, researching what was very obviously a history project of some kind didn’t seem like a particularly reckless thing, but Nicole had never seen Waverly like this before. 

She is cagey and on edge, looking for all the world as if she wished the ground would swallow her up. 

Nicole’s immediate response is to back off - this is Waverly’s thing, and it’s for her to elect to share it with someone else. However, there is another layer of intrigue for Nicole; an instinctual something at the back of her mind telling her that Waverly needs to share this. 

“Waverly, there’s no one around. Your family aren’t going to hear you up here.”

Again, Waverly shakes her head, looking a little desperate. “I just...can’t.” 

“Well then where can you say anything - only at school or something?” 

At this, Waverly looks positively horrified. “Oh God, definitely not at school.” 

“Well then w-”

“The treehouse,” Waverly says suddenly and Nicole does a double take.

“The treehouse,” she repeats blankly. “The treehouse we’ve never used since I’ve been here. The one I only saw the other day because we fixed it.”

“All the more reason for us to make the most out of it later then, right?”

“Waverly, I really don’t – ”

Whatever misgivings Nicole could express are interrupted by a shout from Gus, calling the girls down to help set the table for dinner. It would seem that the food really did need only a little heating up, because within twenty more minutes the family is sat around the table, swapping stories about their day.

Curtis receives the news of the Sheriff’s offer well, and agrees to call him the next morning to have the necessary discussions. 

This makes Nicole exceptionally happy, but does not entirely counteract the intrigue and concern over Waverly’s behaviour. 

There seems to be very little that Waverly does not discuss with her aunt and uncle, so for her to so desperately keep a secret that, for all intents and purposes, looks harmless, is completely out of character.

She is oddly quiet all throughout dinner, only speaking when asked a direct question, and saying just about enough to convince everyone else that things are fine. 

The rest of the meal passes as normal, and after all the washing up is done Nicole and Waverly trek back upstairs. 

Once the door is shut, Nicole takes in Waverly properly as she stands and fiddles with the cuff on sleeve and worries her bottom lip against her teeth. 

“Waverly I don’t want to pressure you or anything but this isn’t like you. I’m kind of worrying right now.”

“Not here,” Waverly hisses, glancing again at her door as though her whole family is on the other side with their ears pressed against the wood. 

“We can’t just go to the treehouse. It’ll look weird and besides, it’s too cold. Do you want to freeze to death?”

“There’s a little heater in there, and loads of blankets.” 

“This is…” Nicole begins, before stopping herself with a sigh. She had been the one to press the matter, after all. “Okay, fine. Just let me get my sweater out my bag.”

A few moments later, and armed with a few extra contingency blankets, the two of them creep around the house. They somehow manage to make it out the back door without being spotted, and Waverly leads the way across the backyard to the enormous old tree in the corner. 

Waverly lets Nicole clamber up a little rope ladder first, and she follows a moment later. Once she has hoisted herself into the structure behind Nicole, she darts about and fiddles with the little heater which seems to work via its own power source. In a rather bold move given the fact that they are sitting in a wooden house attached to a tree, she lights a couple of candles so that they can see each other a little better. 

Nicole thinks to point out that the light might be visible from the house, but then thinks better of it. It is freezing out here as it is; Nicole has no desire to sit in the dark too. 

Grateful for the dim, yellow light, Nicole collects blankets from the couch and gives Waverly, who is already visibly shivering, the lion’s share.  Waverly eventually settles herself on the crimson rug on the floor, sitting cross-legged as she normally does, even on chairs.

Nicole is initially surprised that they are not going to be sitting on the couch, until she considers that Waverly’s position brings her closer to the little heater. 

Nicole wordlessly watches as Waverly shivers and looks completely ill at ease. If she had possessed any resolve to speak to Nicole about this big secret she had been harbouring, it had well and truly deserted her after dinner. 

Nicole loses heart too. It was never her intention to force Waverly into a corner; she just had a feeling Waverly might need to speak up about something. 

“Waves, this is stupid. You’re freezing, I’m freezing. You’re under no obligation to tell me anything - I didn’t want to make you feel that, I just thought you might want to talk. Let’s just go inside before your aunt and uncle realise we left.” 

Waverly does not meet her eye, but instead stares into the middle distance, lost in thought and obviously only half listening. 

“I do want to talk. I just…” Waverly begins, before sighing. “I don’t want you to think I’m crazy like everyone else does.” 

Still standing, Nicole cannot help but gape down at Waverly. “I wouldn’t - no one thinks that.” 

Waverly finally looks at Nicole, flashing her a sad little smile. 

“Yes, they do.” 

“I haven’t seen anyone act that way.” 

Waverly pats the rug and smiles again, this time marginally more genuinely. “Will you sit with me?” 

Nicole does not need to be asked twice. She would sit here, freezing cold and shivering, with Waverly all night if she had to. 

She settles on the floor, facing Waverly, just as the cool air being circulated by the heater starts to grow warmer.

“I’ve been reading up on...some stuff,” Waverly says cryptically. “And Gus and Wynonna would be so disappointed in me if they knew.” 

“They’d never be disappointed in you,” Nicole insists, thinking back to her conversation with Gus, “but for the record, I’m not going to tell anyone anything.” 

Waverly tries for another weak smile. “Thanks. It’s just really hard to explain, especially because I haven’t been totally honest with you.” 

“That’s okay,” Nicole says. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” 

“It’s not that. But you are going to think I’m ridiculous.” 

“I promise I won’t.” 

“You don’t have the first clue what I’m going to say,” Waverly points out softly, sounding disbelieving at Nicole’s conviction.

“Maybe not, but I’ve gotten to know you, and I know nothing about you is ridiculous. So - if you want to - why don’t you try me, yeah?” 

Waverly starts twisting her hands, eyes fixed on her lap. 

“It’s about my dad and my sister. About how they died. And before you say I don’t have to say anything - I know, and I seriously appreciate it. But you know I’ve got some secret now, so I’m going to tell you. Even if it ruins everything.” 

“I’ll let you say what you need to at your own pace, yeah?” Nicole says, “but then let me show you that nothing you say could change things between us.” 

Waverly nods, but still looks unconvinced. 

“I don’t even really know where to start. But basically, I think you know already that we’re related to Wyatt Earp. He was basically a lawkeeper and deputy marshall during the nineteenth century mostly. He killed seventy-seven people with a gun he called Peacemaker.” Waverly pauses and catches the look on Nicole’s face.

Nicole cannot see herself but it must be an odd expression somewhere between confusion (_this is not going where I expected_) and mild distaste (_ugh, men and their bravado_).

Waverly bites back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I know. Putting aside the ugly judge, jury, and executioner edge though, he obviously got a name for himself. We uh, we have this family legend - and this is where the crazy starts - that after he was done killing all these people, he got cursed and so did his descendents by extension. The short version is that every time his direct heir turns twenty-seven, all the people Wyatt killed with Peacemaker come back from hell. It’s then down to that heir to send them back down, and the heir who gets all seventy-seven breaks the curse.”

She pauses again, and looks at Nicole, presumably to gauge her reaction.

Nicole nods, careful to look as neutral as possible. “I’m following, I think.” 

“Wyatt is my great-great grandfather; we’re direct descendants. My eldest sister would have been considered an heir. My father did consider both her and himself to be heirs. He believed in the curse, and so for a while we all did. Me and my sisters were just kids; our father told us this stuff, and we believed him, because he was our parent.” 

As Waverly speaks, the treehouse begins to heat up and she seems to stop shivering. The colour does not return to her face, however. Still looking pale and worried, she adds,

“So everyone at school thought me and my sisters were complete freaks. We talked about revenants - that’s what Dad called the people Wyatt shot - and demons and stuff like it was totally normal. To us, it was. Dad coached Willa to be the heir. He taught her to shoot Peacemaker and told her all about the revenants. He was obsessed with it actually, now I look back on it, but we didn’t really question it that much. It was just how Dad was. 

“Anyway, the night he died, the seven men who attacked our house - he said they were revenants. He went outside to try and get rid of them and they attacked him. They came into our house, looking for Willa. They took her, dragged her outside with Dad. Wynonna picked up Dad’s police shotgun and tried to shoot at the men, but nothing seemed to work. We decided she needed to use Wyatt’s old gun instead. When she shot that one, Dad got in the way. That’s when he got shot. That’s how he died.” 

Waverly pauses, once again carefully checking Nicole’s expression. For just a beat too long, Nicole forgets to look surprised and her reaction does not quite cut it. 

“You knew?” Waverly asks, looking shocked. “Wynonna never tells anyone that.” 

“We spoke the yesterday,” Nicole admits. “I told her about the rumour Champ and Steph started, told her it was true. I don’t know why. It just felt right at the time. She told me some stuff too. Just about the accident though, not anything supernatural.” 

Perhaps still unused to people not condemning Wynonna for her story, Waverly seems to default back to an attempt to defend her sister. It only endears Nicole to her more, even if it is wholly unnecessary.

“She’s a good person, I swear. It was an accident, I saw it. She would never have -”

“I know, Waves,” Nicole says gently, sparing Waverly the hurt of trawling through all the times she has had to defend her sister. “I didn’t say it to Wynonna at the time, I didn’t think she’d want to hear it, but it must  be incredibly painful for her, having to carry that round. I’m sorry, really, that you both have to do just that.”

“Sorry,” Waverly whispers. “I’m just used to everyone thinking badly of her.”

“That’s not something you have to be sorry for.”

“Maybe not,” Waverly says, voice still quiet. She smiles, although she looks painfully sad. “But you’re different. You’re not like the others.” 

“So you’ve said,” Nicole replies gently, all in the name of giving Waverly a few moments to gather herself for the next part of her story. In truth, she will never tire of hearing that Waverly holds her in high esteem. 

They sit in silence a while until Waverly continues her story.

“After that night, me and Wynonna never questioned that it was the revenants. But when the police and the detectives came, they were super worried by how normalised this stuff was to us. I think they thought my Dad had been this completely terrible person. And, to be fair, he was to a degree - but I think they initially had an image of, you know that movie, Room?” She looks to Nicole, who nods. “I think they thought it was like that for a bit; like he’d kept us locked up and brainwashed us or something.

“So Wynonna in particular got a bunch of assessments. The more they did to her, the more she lashed out. That’s eventually what got her sent away. I think they probably sectioned her initially, although literally no one talks about that. Because of all the demon stuff. They thought she was delusional. They thought Dad had been delusional too. Everyone here thought it. 

“Gus told me more than ten years ago that I should stop talking about revenants, and at first I didn’t listen – just because I needed to talk, you know – but I could see how disappointed that made her, so I stopped. Then when Wynonna came back, I tried to talk to her instead, but she just made me promise I’d forget everything Dad ever told us about the curse. Looking back now, she was probably trying to save me from being admitted to a Psych ward too, but at the time it just felt shitty, because I had all this stuff I believed in, and this stuff I remembered about the attack, and no one would let me talk about it. The kids at school bullied me for all the curse stuff too for a time. It felt like I had no one at all.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Nicole murmurs, as Waverly seems to take a break. “I’m sorry no one would listen to you.” 

“You’re listening to me now,” Waverly counters, as though this could make up for years of painful silence. All the same, Nicole nods and replies,

“I am, and I’ll always listen to you.”

“I wish I could say thank you enough. But I’m still scared you’ll think I’m insane for what I’m about to say. Because I don’t know that I ever stopped believing in revenants. I know I should, but something just doesn’t add up. Wynonna couldn’t even touch them with Dad’s regular gun, and some of them just...didn’t look human. I can’t explain it. They literally looked demonic. One guy could do this thing with his head, like an owl swivelling but at a million miles an hour. And I know that the rational explanation is that I was a kid, and I was scared, and I probably had PTSD and I couldn’t remember anything properly. But I know what I saw. I know it wasn’t some kind of dream or hallucination. 

“And I know that my aunt and sister want me to just move past this belief, but I can’t. So I started researching it all. Not the curse so much, but just the people Wyatt killed. I figure that if I find all of them and don’t recognise any faces, maybe I can put this to bed. Because right now I can’t. I think I...I actually believe in revenants.”

Waverly takes a deep breath, dabbing gently at the corner of her eye. “So yeah,” she adds. “Now you get to ditch me for being totally crazy.” 

Nicole lets a silence sit between them for a beat or two, just to let things settle and sink in. 

“As predicted, I don’t think you’re crazy, and I don’t think Wynonna was either. I think you were told a certain thing for half your childhood, and now you need to find out the truth. And that’s okay.” 

At this, Waverly looks impossibly sad. “But you don’t think I’m right about the curse.” 

Nicole considers this for a moment. 

“Honestly? I genuinely don’t have an answer for that. This is the first I’ve ever heard about it, so I feel like I don’t know enough. I’m not really a person who’ll ever rule anything out; like, who am I to assume I know everything about what’s out there? I’m kind of an empirical evidence type of person, but then that means that what you’re doing makes sense to me. You’re trying to find that evidence.” 

For a moment, Waverly looks a little awestruck, as though she has witnessed an avalanche. 

“I was about to say that that was the last response I’d ever have expected from anyone. But then I realised that actually, that is precisely the kind of thing you’d say to me.” 

Nicole grins sheepishly. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.” 

“I think you’re one of the kindest, most non-judgemental people I’ve ever met, and I should have known I could tell you this. I’m sorry I tried to hide it from you before, but there’s literally no one else in the world who knows I’m doing this.” 

Nicole is somewhat shocked about this. “Not even Chrissy?” 

“No.”

“Your uncle?”

“God, definitely not. He’d tell Gus and then I’d be screwed.” 

Nicole is surprised at this. She knows Gus is not a woman to be crossed but she doesn't seem the kind to disregard Waverly's need for closure. 

"She wouldn't be that bad, surely?" 

"Oh, she would," Waverly says with a scoff. "She means well but she hated hearing me and Wynonna talking about this stuff. She was worried about how it was holding us back here, and of course she doesn't believe in any of it. It was bad enough when Wynonna was struggling with her mental health after what happened. I don't disagree with Gus on much of anything, not on a deep level, but I disagree with her on all of this. I know that my aunt and uncle have given me and Wynonna everything, and I know they love us more than anything, but in terms of all the fallout from the attack, I think they could have done more, especially for Wynonna. They don't let us talk about this stuff, it's just their way. Put it out of mind and get on. They're not doing it out or malice, they've always done the best they can. The best they know how to do. They didn't have kids after all. They had to learn to be parents too. But Gus would absolutely crucify me if she found my books."

Nicole tries to align this with the view she has of the McCreadys. Deep down, she thinks Waverly is wrong. Maybe Gus wouldn't support or even allow Waverly's endeavour under her roof, but she surely wouldn't be half as angry as Waverly is implying. 

"Keeping talk of the supernatural under wraps, is it like a keeping up appearances thing or…" Nicole asks, trying to understand.

Waverly considers this. "No, not really. It's more that she never approved of my dad and never liked how he was with any of us, especially neglecting me and to a degree Wynonna to basically force Willa to be an heir to something Gus didn't believe in. She knew we were getting crap at school, and she just wanted us to have happy, peaceful lives. Lives she pegged as normal by her definition which, I don't think, is particularly narrow-minded."

"She wanted to protect you then," Nicole concludes thinking that this is precisely the Gus McCready she has come to know, the Gus McCready who dried Nicole’s own tears only a couple of hours ago. 

She understands Waverly’s reasons for keeping this journey private, but she also privately thinks that Waverly has overthought Gus’ potential reaction to this extra-curricular research project. 

Waverly bites at her lip. "Yes, I suppose so, though I've never thought of it precisely like that before. Do you think that makes me wrong for disobeying her?" 

Nicole pauses, chewing on her lip as she chooses her words carefully. 

"I think…from what you've told me, you need this. I think that wanting to protect someone can sometimes also mean restricting them, even when that’s coming from a person as great as Gus. And I think, so long as it doesn't become a crutch in any way, you doing this isn't a bad thing."

As Nicole speaks, she watches Waverly's expression shift slowly, until it looks very much like she is about to cry. 

At first Nicole wonders if she has said the wrong thing, before realising that this might be the first time anyone has ever validated Waverly's need to understand this part of her life. She takes Waverly's hand and grips it gently, waiting patiently until Waverly is ready to speak again. 

"I spent so long hiding this because I thought I'd disappoint people, it's so much to talk to you about it now."

Waverly's gratitude is inherent in her tone, and Nicole gives her a small smile to acknowledge her unspoken thanks. 

"If I can say one thing from living here for the past few months, it's that every person in this house loves you more than words. And they're never going to be disappointed in you. It would just be an adjustment for them, understanding that you're an adult who has her own way of dealing with these things."

"Gus wants me to move past this stuff. Not necessarily in my own head, but in my social life. She knows that it's nine tenths of the law here, no matter whether she agrees with it or not. I think maybe that's why I just let Steph and that lot sweep me up into their group, and why I went on that date with Champ. I know how happy my happiness makes her, and I sometimes feel like I owe her that. She's never made me feel that way, it's something I've put on myself."

Nicole nods, thinking that she understands Waverly even more than she already did, just from that one statement alone. 

"Well, for the record, Gus doesn't seem like the kind of person who would want you to be happy on anyone else's terms but your own."

Waverly nods, still looking a little grave. “I think I do know that really. I just feel like I owe her and Curtis so much.

“You and me both,” Nicole quips, unable to stop herself letting out a little chuckle. Happily, it makes Waverly laugh softly too.

“Thank you. Again,” Waverly says. “For always listening.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I always like listening to you.”

Nicole thinks she would happily do nothing more for the rest of her days than sit and listen to Waverly speak.

Waverly laughs again, although she still looks sad. “Even when I’m saying stuff that’s pretty bananas.”

“Even when you’re saying stuff that I can’t quite wrap my head around on the first try, yes,” Nicole amends gently.

“You know, I  _ so _ wish I’d had you here from the beginning. No one at all has ever made me feel like it’s okay to need know more.”

“I wish I’d been here too. Wouldn’t have sucked half so much to have invisible parents if I’d had you and your family in my life when I was a kid.”

“We could have helped each other,” Waverly says, sounding a little brighter at the mental image she is clearly assembling for herself.

“Just like we are now,” Nicole points out, before growing unsure and adding, “I think. I hope, at least.”

“Oh, you’re  _ always _ helping me,” Waverly replies easily. “I’m not entirely sure what I do for you.”

_ Everything _ , Nicole thinks. “Oh, much more than you know,” she says instead. “You helped me feel okay about being in a strange place, for one.”

“I guess,” Waverly replies, but she does not sound convinced.

“I  _ know _ . So don’t let yourself think otherwise. And don’t believe that it’s not okay to look into this. Like I say, so long as you’ve got healthy boundaries with it, then it might bring you closure. And if you need someone to help, or even just a cover to go to the library, then I can do that.”

“You would?” Waverly asks, looking shocked.

“Of course.”

“And you’re  _ definitely _ not going to tell my aunt and uncle?”

Nicole cannot help but smile fondly to herself. She would be lying if she said that something like this had the potential to cross into an unhealthy coping mechanism, but right now Waverly was just doing what most people would do; she was looking for the truth. Nicole would never get in the way of that.

“No,” she says, “definitely not.”

For the first time, Waverly looks truly relieved. She exhales.

“Thank you. Thank you  _ so  _ much.”

She drifts into Nicole’s space for a hug, which Nicole gladly accepts. She lets Waverly hold on for as long as she needs, pretending not to notice that her breathing is a little haggard. Offloading so much was a big emotional release for anyone. Nicole was happy to help. She was also happy to be able to focus on looking out for Waverly, because it gave her a distraction from the traitorous hammering of her heart that accompanied the feeling of having Waverly in her arms. She can only hope that Waverly is too wrapped up in her own emotions to really notice the way Nicole’s body reacts to their closeness.

In fact, it was becoming almost unbearable, this feeling. It was like she’d been running and couldn’t catch her breath. It was like she would burst every time they were like this (and, thanks to Waverly’s best efforts, they were like this a lot). It was like someone had inflated a balloon in her chest, and Nicole could only accommodate so much before something had to give.

But, she had asked herself a million times, what could give? She couldn’t kiss Waverly – that much was for sure. For countless reasons, she simply did not have that option. Waverly was her roommate; the niece of two people who had taken Nicole in as a stranger, and treated her as a relative. Waverly was her  _ friend _ too, the type of friend Nicole couldn’t ever afford to lose. But as cut and dry as this all seemed to Nicole, she was also aware that there were precious few alternatives. She had found she could no longer shut her heart off like she used to, could no more stop feeling these things about Waverly than stop breathing. She had tried over recent weeks – lord, had she tried – but the feelings were here for the long haul.

When it came down to it, all Nicole could do was ride this out, along with doing her level best to stop daydreaming about the world of possibilities that existed in an alternate reality where Waverly felt the same back, and lived her life in a way that meant she could act on any such feelings.

Nicole was under no illusions that, while here in Purgatory, Waverly would likely never give into feelings for another girl, even if she experienced them in the first place.

This was still in flux as it was. Although she perhaps hadn’t realised it yet, Waverly didn’t seem to be as sure of her own feelings and attractions as Nicole had initially thought. Nicole would never intentionally derail or force whatever internal processes Waverly still had to go through.

Nicole had had Waverly’s words from a few nights before on her mind all day, because a lot of stuff made sense now. The persistent closeness, the excuses for physical touch, seemed a little clearer to Nicole when paired them with Waverly’s assertion that she had never thought of herself as straight before. This was not, however, Nicole’s thought process to have, so she had tried not to delve deeper than this.

Forcing things below the surface, however, was a lot easier said than done when she had Waverly holding onto her so tightly and for so long. It was close to impossible, in fact, when it felt so  _ right _ to hold her back and it felt so difficult when it was eventually time to pull away.

It would be hard to tell that Waverly had been crying, but Nicole could see the signs, even as she’d felt the tiny shudders of Waverly’s body against her own. Probably, the cold does not help this matter much. The heater is doing its valiant best, but is not succeeding in sending any substantial warmth around the room. 

“We should go inside, get you warm,” Nicole murmurs, reaching out on instinct for a strand of Waverly’s hair that has fallen out of her loose bun. Nicole has tucked it behind Waverly’s ear before she realises what she is doing. Quickly, she withdraws her hand, feeling suddenly hot instead of cold, and very embarrassed.

Waverly studies Nicole carefully for a moment, a strange, unrecognisable look on her face. For a moment it looks as though something will happen, that perhaps she will say or do something more. After a beat or two, however, the moment passes.

She nods. “Yeah. Before it gets too late.”

They both stand and Nicole helps Waverly reset the room to its previous state, before seeing Waverly down the rope ladder first. On a whim, she plucks something at random from the room, before catching Waverly up on her way across the yard.

They do not have so much success returning to the house unnoticed, and find Gus in the kitchen. Time has passed them by; Gus and Curtis are already preparing their last cup of tea before bed.

“You know,” Gus says, surveying them both carefully, “if you aren’t up to something, sneaking about in the night and going to the treehouse without a word to us is a great way to imply otherwise.”

Both girls freeze for a moment, exchanging a nervous glance. It is not late. Surely they will not be in trouble.

“I thought we’d had the conversation about telling us before you go outside in the dark?” Gus points out, but she is fighting a smile. “You’re both certainly worryingly stealthy; we didn’t even realise until I saw the lights on a moment ago.”

Nicole all but feels Waverly’s relief, and she knows that her friend will not be able to lie to her aunt.

“Sorry. We just wanted to do something a little different,” Nicole replies, holding up the box in her hand. In the light of the kitchen, she can see that the board game she had retrieved in the dark was  _ Mouse Trap _ . Well, any port in a storm. “Just went to make a decision.”

“Well then,” Gus says, pouring water into two cups, then retrieving two more. “No harm done, except perhaps for the cold. You two can warm yourself up with this.”

For Waverly and Nicole, she makes hot chocolate, then sends them upstairs with instructions to refrain from any further wandering tonight.

When they are safely ensconced in the bedroom with their mugs resting atop their bedside tables, Waverly turns to Nicole.

“You are a  _ worryingly _ good liar,” she says incredulously. “Thank goodness you picked that game up. I didn’t even see that you had it.”

“Not really,” Nicole counters, wondering if she should worry at how easily the deception came to her when it was in the name of protecting Waverly’s privacy – and her feelings. “Just prepared.”

“Well you’re no  _ Pinocchio _ , that’s for sure.”

Nicole makes a show of checking her nose.

“Whatever. You want to play  _ Mouse Trap _ ?” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Nicole returns to school the next day, and finds she is subject to more attention for getting into a fight with Champ than as a result of the original rumours. She gets a few vulgar comments and demands for official confirmation about her sexuality from the boys in her Phys Ed class, but she is not particularly bothered about what they have to say. 

After a cycle in which questions and comments are followed by Nicole’s rebuttals multiple times, Perry eventually uses his clout as team captain for the duration of the class to tell the boys to shut up and concentrate on the game.

Nicole appreciates him giving her the time to speak up for herself, and knowing exactly the moment the behaviour could be cut off for being plain annoying, as well somewhat offensive.

By far more interesting to her fellow students, however, seems to be the news that Nicole got herself into a fight and came out the victor. People stop her between classes to ask her for details, citing an array of wildly over-exaggerated stories that must have made their rounds through the school grapevine. Nicole starts off the day dispelling any wrong notions, before eventually accepting that she was fighting a losing battle. The same misinformation was going to continue to abound, no matter what she did. 

“You’d think people  _ actually _ believed I’d dropkicked him or something,” Nicole grumbles to Robin at lunchtime as she rifles through the lunch Gus had given her. She fishes out an apple and bites into it with a satisfying crunch. Around the mouthful of food she adds, “it’s ridiculous what people will fall for.”

“Wishful thinking,” Robin advises sagely. “They like to imagine that you  _ did _ dropkick him.”

“Maybe,” Nicole agrees. “How’s your lip?”

This is something of a pointless question, because even after nearly two days, Robin is still kind of a mess. If anything, he looks worse now because the bruise around his eye has come out, and the swelling has gone down only marginally in his lip. The cut has healed pretty well, but still looks pretty nasty and is more visible with less swelling there . 

“Sore, but it could have been a lot worse,” Robin says with a shrug, voice carrying a heavy note of gratitude that Nicole feels is rather unnecessary. Looking down to his own meal, Robin adds, “thank you. Again. For sticking up for me.”

“It’s what friends do, right?” 

Robin looks up again, meeting Nicole’s eye and smiling. “Right.” 

They fall silent, and Nicole roots around her bag to see what else she has to eat. She pulls out a ziplock bag with two squashed sandwiches inside. As she tries valiantly to revive the food’s structural integrity, she is distracted by the appearance of Waverly and Chrissy. They always sit with Stephanie and her friends, who get their pick of the tables and  _ never _ sit anywhere near Nicole and Robin’s usual haunts. That’s sort of the point of Robin and Nicole sitting there. 

Catching her line of sight (and her surprised expression when Waverly and Chrissy start walking closer) Robin says, “oh, yeah. Forgot to mention that they sat with me yesterday. I thought they just didn’t want me to be on my own. Didn’t know if it was going to be a permanent thing.” 

“ _ You _ forgot to mention?” Nicole echoes in disbelief, “well, someone else forgot to mention it too.”

But then again, Nicole realises, Waverly had been a bit distracted last night. 

“Bold move, huh?” Robin says, seemingly reading Nicole’s mind perfectly. 

It might  _ just _ be a seat in a busy lunch room during a recess, but in this school it was far more symbolic than that. If Waverly and Chrissy really  _ were _ intending to spend their lunch hour with Nicole and Robin from now on, it was a pretty obvious message to Steph, Champ, and everyone else that they had finally crossed a line. 

Chrissy reaches the table first and drags an unoccupied chair from another group of kids to a spot next to Robin, before sitting down and groaning.

“I hate finals,” she declares, as if this is a perfectly normal lunchtime set-up. Robin picks up the conversation immediately, and the two of them immediately launch into the kind of morose, stress-fuelled back and forth that is common amongst the entire grade. 

Waverly, on the other hand, asks to take a spare chair and moves it slowly, more hesitantly, next to Nicole.

She hovers for a moment before asking, “it is alright if we join you, right?” 

Nicole cannot help but snort incredulously. She appreciates Waverly’s ability to respect boundaries and personal space, really she does, but they gladly spend almost every other waking (and sleeping) moment in each other’s company. 

“Of course,” Nicole says after she tones down her amusement, careful to sound as genuine and well-meaning as possible. When Waverly sits and throws her a disgruntled look, Nicole adds, “what did you think I was gonna say? ‘No, you can’t sit with us’?” 

She pitches her voice to make the obvious movie reference, and Waverly kicks the side of her foot lightly under the table.

“I  _ knew _ you were gonna say that. Be more original.” 

“Ouch. Dagger to the heart,” Nicole says, voice intentionally monotonous. “Just be grateful you understood my reference this time.” 

Waverly has an impressive swing-and-miss track record with Nicole’s sports references - even the really, really well-known ones. 

“You’re  _ mean _ ,” Waverly says, setting a box of salad on the table in front of her, and fishing a fork from the bottom of her satchel. 

“So, go sit somewhere else. I’m sure Steph will have you back,” Nicole teases, earning herself a sharp jab from one of Waverly’s impressively pointy elbows. 

Nicole aims a hit back, and Waverly nearly knocks her salad off the table.

“Oh, you are  _ so  _ lucky. You would have paid if that had gone on the floor.” 

Nicole makes a show of urgently grabbing at Waverly’s arm as if to get her attention. 

“Hey, Waves, you feel that? Yeah, that’s me  _ not _ shaking in fear at your empty threats.” 

Waverly  _ tsks  _ as if unimpressed and they throw gentle mock insults back and forth until, almost at once, they realise that both Chrissy and Robin have stopped talking to listen to them. 

Chrissy is watching, wearing an amused - and, honestly, perhaps a somewhat  _ bemused _ \- look on her face, but it is Robin that catches Nicole’s attention. It is probably unintentional, but his expression is intrigued, sympathetic, and far too knowing for Nicole’s liking. If she had hoped to keep the crush under wraps, then that ship had pretty much just sailed. 

She spends the rest of the lunch hour trying to regulate her interactions with Waverly, suddenly very aware of how they must look to outside eyes. She is simply grateful that Robin is the one who seems to have caught on, because he is her friend, and she trusts him implicitly.

More than that, he has the good grace and tact to say nothing at all about their new lunchtime companions during Physics, and instead they simply chatter away about their test next week. 

The rest of the day passes by in a fairly unremarkable way and, when Nicole arrives home, it is to the news that Curtis has given Chrissy’s dad the go-ahead to make arrangements for her to spend some time shadowing him. She will not, of course, be allowed to do much work, but Chrissy’s dad will show her the day-to-day tasks, and if things go well they might let her pick up some of the basic back-office work for a small amount of pay.

Every part of this situation is music to Nicole’s ears – both the experience and the money. Money means a lot of things right now, not least that her life after the Christmas vacation will be much easier. 

As soon as she can, she texts Dolls, who is as happy for her as she would have anticipated. 

_ How do you feel about closing out your time in Purgatory that way? _ he asks, and Nicole is not naive enough to believe that he is not doing so with an agenda. He is sounding out her plans, probably disproving of the idea that she would leave behind such a solid opportunity. 

Honestly, Nicole disapproves pretty soundly too. All the same, she is still a little too proud to admit just yet that she was wrong, so she types back, 

_ Ending on a high for sure! _

Dolls says nothing more, but Nicole knows she has to make her decision soon. She cannot allow him to make all the plans and book in vacation days only to bail on him right at the last minute.

If, indeed, she was going to bail on him at all.

It should, she knows, be a total no-brainer; it was obvious that she should want to stay here in Alberta.

And, for the most part, she does. After all, there is so much here for her. 

However, this knowledge did not, in any way, account for the sick, anxious feeling that starts up when she types - and then erases - about thirty different messages to Dolls, each telling him in a slightly different way to cancel their great escape plans. 

She does not even understand it herself. In fact, no matter how hard she wracks her brains, she cannot come to a single reasonable conclusion as to what is holding her back. 

She spends the whole rest of the evening lost, confused, and all-but silent. Waverly notices; the whole family notices. They try to engage her in conversation to no avail - she is withdrawn but not rude - until eventually they work out that space might well be the best remedy of all. 

And while they are right (and the fact they so carefully read Nicole’s signs and respect them only makes her feel  _ more _ guilty about her current quandary), the quiet time leads Nicole no closer to an epiphany on why she should feel so downright shitty about kissing goodbye to her early return to Ottawa. 

She goes to bed early and sleeps fitfully, the only thoughts on her mind an unpleasant, repetitive drumbeat of, simply,  _ what the hell am I supposed to  _ do _ with all of this _ ? and  _ why the hell does everything have to be so hard all the time? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, your comments would mean the world.
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely week - take care.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something tells me this might be a chapter you've all been waiting for...
> 
> I really hope you all like the perspective I've given Nicole, about delaying the decision with Dolls. Or at least understand it. A big part of the original book is the mc's decision to stay or to go with her best friend, and we know how hard Nicole tries for all those around her. I think letting go would be really, really hard for her, even under this circumstance. 
> 
> Thank you as ever for your amazing comments and your support. I really hope you like this chapter.

December is rarely a slow month. Unless you are young enough to believe in Santa and impatiently count down the days to his arrival, there is always something to be doing. For Gus, Curtis, and countless other adults around the globe, this involved buying presents and sorting out supplies of appropriately seasonal food. For Waverly, Nicole, and all of their peers, this involved trying to stretch out the days before their winter finals, trying to cram as much knowledge into their aching, tired brains as possible. 

No one can _ truly _ slow the time down, however, so the exams come and, somehow, everyone gets through them, because, really, they have no other choice. 

Nicole sits her own tests in a haze of nerves about both her education (and the associated fear of disappointing anyone around her), and the ticking time bomb of telling Dolls to curtail her escape plan – or not.

She finishes all her finals the day before Waverly and exclusively pleads the fifth when asked by anyone how she thinks she performed.

Waverly, on the other hand, works restlessly and decides she must have failed every single exam she sits. On the night before her last final – and before their winter vacation begins – she studies fitfully and oscillates between obvious and deliberate avoidance of tomorrow’s exam, and pure terror at the thought of it. Nicole tries to help her to study, but mostly tries to help her to keep calm.

Things have been different for the past couple of weeks.

Waverly and Chrissy sit with Robin and Nicole during every lunch break – or, depending on everyone’s extra-curricular obligations, some permutation of the group congregates in the lunchroom. Either way, they rarely engage with Stephanie or Champ, once he returns to school. 

Perhaps because Waverly and Chrissy are so nice and, therefore, such genuinely well-liked people, very little happens by way of repercussions. Waverly reports one evening that Steph had pulled her aside and given her a few strong words about the perceived stupidity of Waverly’s choice, but little more had been said and Waverly did not seem to care at all. This, in itself, was interesting enough.

Equally interesting, perhaps, was how easily Steph and Champ’s group left Nicole and Robin alone now. There was an argument to suggest that Nicole breaking Champ’s nose was enough of a deterrent, but another to suggest that the reactions from other people in the grade to everything that had happened, socially speaking, were a bit of a wakeup call. Responses to Nicole’s fight, and to Waverly and Chrissy’s friendship group migration, ranged from open disinterest to active support, and it soon became obvious just how disliked the so-called ‘popular’ group of kids had been.

After all, popularity waxed or waned regularly, and social status within the contained bubble of high school could only carry so far at a time when everyone was stressed, overworked, and deeply contemplative about their own futures. Those who had applied to colleges early – a remarkably small number of those from the Purgatory contingent of the Ghost River Triangle’s students – were nervously awaiting responses, and the odd person who had applied to exceptionally elite colleges had even been granted provisional admission.

Simply put, high school was ending, and although life in Purgatory seemed to always retain a little of that social structure, people were starting to think past the likes of Stephanie Jones and Champ Hardy.

This, therefore, seemed to herald a welcome stretch of peacetime for Nicole, but especially for Robin, who had not been bothered once by anyone since the fight. Almost overnight, a weight seems to lift off him, and even if he is still up against a lot back at home, an easy peace emanates from him in a way that Nicole cannot help but delight in.

After all, if there are any people in this world who deserve for things to fall into place, then surely Robin, Chrissy and Waverly are foremost among them.

Nicole makes a special effort to look out for Waverly before her last exam, more so than normal, and even walks her to the examination hall right before the start of first period. It makes her a little late for Psychology but, given that it is the last class of the year, the teacher does not seem to care. As with all of the classes that day, very little happens, and everyone’s excitement for their impending freedom means that the teachers can successfully impart little more than the required reading to be completed by the start of the next semester.

By the time it is final period Physics, however, no amount of excitement can trump Nicole’s exhaustion. She had stayed up late helping Waverly study, and can barely conceal yawn after yawn as she and the rest of the class feign interest in conducting experiments.

The teacher seems aware that attempting to control the class at this point in time is a losing battle, and completely ignores the fact that no one is trying especially hard to record results. Some groups of people have not even unpacked the equipment they are supposed to be using.

“Didn’t you finish your finals yesterday?” Robin teases when Nicole yawns for the fifth time. “Some of us still had Music this morning.”

“Yes, and some others had History,” Nicole says pointedly.

Robin catches on fast enough. “So your first night of freedom was spent studying for someone else’s exam, huh?”

It is obvious he is just teasing, but all the same Nicole answers, “yeah, but I didn’t mind.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Robin replies, and the comment sits between them for a second, loaded like a gun.

Robin colours immediately, and it is only the fact that he quite clearly did not intend to say anything of the sort that stops Nicole from growing defensive. Instead, she raises both her eyebrows in an expression intended to playfully read, _ what the hell, dude?! _ and watches with some amusement as Robin visibly tries to think his way out of this conversation.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that how it came out,” he says eventually, very obviously lying.

Nicole fights a grin. Yes, it sucks that her feelings for Waverly aren’t a total secret, but Robin had caught on pretty much as soon as he saw the two of them interacting, and was perhaps the only person Nicole would trust with such information. The rest of the school – including even the likes of Chrissy and Perry – seemed to have put down the rumours about Nicole being gay down to Steph and Champ’s personal vendetta, and no one even really mentioned it that much anymore. It was hard to say whether others didn’t believe that she is a lesbian, or had accepted the fact without too much fanfare. Nicole suspected the former, but it was hard to be sure in some cases. Chrissy, for example, seemed totally unperturbed by Robin’s identity, so perhaps she simply felt the same about Nicole. Either way, the relative lack of scrutiny _ did _ make Nicole feel a little safer about being so obviously smitten with Waverly. If only Robin had noticed so far, things could be far, far worse. 

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I mean, friends _ do _ help each other study,” Robin points out weakly.

Nicole simply maintains a look of incredulity in his direction.

“You know,” Robin says, narrowing his eyes, “this is such a weird way to cut off your nose to spite your face. I _ know _ you don’t want to talk about this, if you did you’d have mentioned it when it was obvious I’d caught on. You just want to win.”

“See? We _ are _ friends,” Nicole responds with a laugh. “You know me so well. And you’re right. I _ don’t _ want to talk about it. So let’s park the conversation right here.”

“Honestly, if you don’t have a, you know,” Robin pauses and mouthes the word _ girlfriend _, before continuing at regular volume, “situation when we get back next semester, I’m going to be very disappointed in you both.”

Nicole laughs hard at the notion, thinking that the only other person naïve enough to harbour such empty illusions is her own deeply enamoured self. 

Nicole and Waverly welcome the vacation like a breath of fresh air, and are given a celebratory weekend of freedom from all work; be it schoolwork, farm work, or something else entirely.

They make the most of the free time by getting out of the house. Waverly drives them to the diner on Saturday lunchtime and then they make a visit to the movie theatre for an early afternoon screening. They catch the latest _ Star Wars _ movie, which is absolutely not Waverly’s thing at all, but is apparently preferable to all the other outdated movies on offer. This suits Nicole just fine, because although she had started out her _ Star Wars _ viewership as Dolls’ victim of choice to accompany him to every new release, she had actually kind of enjoyed the movies and found herself going back and watching all the older movies following the first reboot.

After they leave the theatre, Waverly drives them home via the town and asks if Nicole minds a detour for Waverly to drop off a few expiring library books. She has not mentioned her family history, or revenants or curses, all that much since their big discussion, and Nicole is unsure whether this is because she is still uncomfortable talking about it, or because school had taken precedence.

Nicole is somewhat surprised, therefore, when Waverly makes mention to her extra-curricular research material, but quite happy that she has done so. It is not a nice thought, imagining Waverly carrying all of this on her own.

“I just don’t want to get the fine or the late return against my name,” she explains a little hurriedly. “I won’t go in and keep you waiting. I’ll get some new books another time.”

“I don’t mind waiting Waves,” Nicole replies. “I’m not rushing off to do anything else. Get what you need now, too. It’ll be a wasted trip otherwise.”

“Oh I uh, I don’t actually know which books I want,” Waverly says, sounding shy. “I usually have to skim through them to get an idea.”

“Okay, well that’s fine too.”

As they pull up in the parking lot and Nicole gets swiped into the library as Waverly’s guest, she cannot help but wonder how Waverly has managed this all for so long. She cannot recall a time when Waverly has recently disappeared off to the public library, let alone for long enough to rifle through books and bring them home with her. Nicole tries to consider how long the same stack of books has lived on the ground beside Waverly’s bookshelf, and cannot remember them changing much in all the time she has been here. There were a lot of books – Waverly must have maxed out her card – and it was possible Waverly had renewed them online while she worked slowly (and stealthily) through their contents.

Nicole’s presence must have made it even harder for Waverly to do her research, and she wonders if Waverly will use the opportunity of the Christmas vacation to throw herself into all of this again.

It seems more deliberate than Nicole initially perceived, then, that they have found themselves here together today. Perhaps this was Waverly’s way of letting Nicole into this part of her life. Perhaps she had been building up to it during these past few weeks. 

Waverly returns her books at the desk while Nicole waits, and then leads her up a large flight of stairs and around a warren of rooms and corridors with ease. The building is surprisingly big considering the size and population of the town, but libraries were so often either the very first or very last victims of change or cutbacks. This one seemed to be doing pretty well. It was a big, old building, well stocked with books of all kinds, and pleasant with that musty smell and cool, still air possessed by so many libraries.

Nicole follows Waverly to a set of shelves marked varyingly as ‘local’ and ‘Canadian’ History, and watches as Waverly begins to carefully read the titles of the books they find there. It is hard to say whether her starting point is arbitrary or carefully calculated, but after five minutes of standing quietly by Nicole decides it would be better for her to ask such questions, rather than loom over Waverly and make her think she needs to hurry.

“How do you know where to begin?” she asks quietly, and Waverly pauses with a rather dated-looking textbook open in one hand.

“I started there,” she whispers, pointing at a far shelf in the ‘Canadian History’ section, “and there.” This time, she gestures at a ‘local History’ shelf. “I look through each book to see if it’s useful, and take home a few from each category. I also Google some stuff and if we have the books that come up, I look for those too. I start on new shelves every time.”

Nicole nods her understanding. It does not surprise her that Waverly has a system.

Seemingly satisfied that her answer was sufficient and already in a specific, study-related headspace with which Nicole is all too familiar, Waverly turns back to the book and skims through a few pages. Eventually she puts it back on the shelf, before promptly pulling it back out again and putting it on the ground.

“That can be the ‘maybe’ pile,” she explains to Nicole, looking sheepish. “I can only take twenty at a time.”

“Only twenty?” Nicole echoes playfully, and Waverly pulls a knowing expression.

“Bedtime reading,” she jokes back. 

Nicole watches her a little while longer, before coming to a decision and reaching for the very first book at the top of the same shelf.

She is no expert in what Waverly would deem as relevant, but the topic is pretty niche, and surely the margin for error must be so huge that even Nicole, as a total novice, cannot screw this up.

Waverly looks a little surprised when Nicole starts flipping through books too, but says nothing until Nicole is onto the third one.

“You don’t have to, you know,” she whispers, sounding somewhat awkward.

“I’m happy to, but if you’d rather I didn’t – you know in case I miss something – I can stop.”

“It’s not that,” Waverly says, “I just don’t want you to feel you have to do this. I know it’s pretty out there.”

Nicole just smiles, shakes her head, and carries on reading.

In less than an hour, they have sorted through two shelves of books and Waverly has a ‘yes’ pile and a list of books to pick up next time.

Nicole offers to carry half the books back downstairs, doing some quick mental math as they leave.

“This is only nineteen,” she says as they leave the room.

“I know, I want to go somewhere else for the last one.”

Waverly trots ahead towards a room with a placard that reads ‘fiction’, seemingly unperturbed by the enormous quantity of books stacked precariously in her arms. Nicole follows, and they come to a halt at ‘young adult literature’.

Waverly scans the shelves for a moment, very obviously with a book in mind, until eventually she pulls out one with a soft pink cover, her movements awkward so as to avoid dropping any of her other selections.

When she flips the book so that its front cover faces her, Nicole sees the title; _ Everything Leads To You _. She is familiar with the book, and is a little surprised that Waverly is too.

Waverly reads the blurb, although she must already know what the book is about, and then the first page, before adding it to the stack she is already carrying.

While she waits, Nicole looks over the rest of the shelf, eventually picking up a copy of _ Pulp _. She had not expected to find even one LGBT book in a library in Purgatory, let alone several works of numerous authors.

“Do you want to get that one?” Waverly asks quietly, and Nicole glances up to find the other girl watching her carefully. “You can take it out under my name, if you want.” 

Nicole’s arms start to ache under the weight of all the other books.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Nicole replies. “We’re already up to max. Thanks though.”

“I can put one of the History ones back,” Waverly says kindly. “What’s one less when I already have eighteen?”

Nicole considers it, but does not really want Waverly to put her research on the backburner for her, especially when she will have time to read all these books over the Christmas vacation.

“It’s fine, thanks. You get your stuff.”

Nicole goes to put the book back, but before she manages it, Waverly says, “well, why don’t we just get you your own card? It should be free either way, but especially since you’re a student in Purgatory.”

Nicole pauses. A library card felt oddly symbolic of permanence. You didn’t take a library card – and a book – out somewhere, only to ditch the place mere weeks down the line.

You also didn’t hesitate over such a simple, harmless suggestion for too long unless you had something to hide.

“Uh, sure. Why not? So long as I can use your address to sign up.”

“_ Your _ address,” Waverly counters brightly, already on her way out of the room.

A little while later and Waverly has checked out all her books on the library’s lone self-service machine and loaded them into four canvas bags, and Nicole is in possession of her very own local library card. 

  
  
  


_ I think I need to talk to you about something… _

Nicole’s hands are shaking, but she hits send anyway. Dolls comes online immediately and starts typing. 

_ I’m afraid I only see you as a friend, _ he writes back immediately, _ but I’m very flattered _. This makes Nicole smile and hold in a laugh. Waverly is a few feet away in her bed, reading one of her library books and making slow, careful notes. Not only does Nicole not want to interrupt her, but she does not want to lie about the conversation she is about to have. 

_ I hate you. Seriously. _

But Nicole no more believes her words than Dolls does. He has always been quite good at reading people, and perhaps even from a distance knew that the joke would put Nicole at ease.

_ Now I KNOW that’s not true. _ _  
_ _ So what did you want to talk about? _

Nicole takes a breath and pauses with her phone at the ready. She doesn’t have the first clue where to begin. She doesn’t know how to explain half of what she is feeling to herself, let alone to Dolls who is thousands of miles away, and has never met Curtis or the rest of his family. She doesn’t know how to explain that she loves this family that has taken her in, and she feels more included than she has ever felt in her life, but she is still, to some degree, searching for home. As obvious as it seems, most days, that _ home _, or the current approximation of the concept, is here with Waverly and her family, there is still an itch beneath Nicole’s skin that she cannot scratch. Nor can she really pinpoint what it is or where it comes from.

It feels like she closed out a chapter of her life when she bid goodbye to her parents, but it does not always feel like she had finished writing all the words down. It feels like there is still a blank page, something she has to fill in with her _ own _ handwriting and on her own terms. She knows now that being taken away from her home was, objectively speaking, the right thing to do, insofar as that concept exists as a certain or secure thing. For the most part, she is settled and happy here, but there is a deep sense of regret that she never got to leave Ottawa on her own terms.

She does not want to return there because she wants to leave Purgatory, she wants to return there for closure and then, perhaps, to say goodbye to that city and never return. In her mind, always, all roads now lead her here to the Ghost River Triangle, to Waverly and Wynonna and the McCreadys. But if this is her story then she still does not feel like she is the one holding the pen.

And as easy an explanation as that is in some ways, still there is something more at play. Still, there is some underlying, niggling sadness at the thought of staying here until graduation that Nicole does not want to acknowledge. Every time she gets close to that feeling, it threatens to overwhelm her, and it feels like a Pandora’s Box that would overpower her if she lifted the lid.

She does not, for the life of her, know how to explain that to Dolls in a message she must sit and type out.

_ I’m really sorry, _ she types and sends. _ I don’t want to mess you around, especially if you’ve made plans. _ She pauses and sends this too. _ But I don’t think I’m coming back to Ottawa next month. I don’t think it’s a smart idea. _

Dolls gives away very little in his response.

_ Okay. _ _  
_ _ Well, first of all, apology not needed. You’re not messing me around. _ _  
_ _ Secondly, can you tell me a little bit more? Should I take this as a good sign or a bad one? _

_ Honestly? I don’t think it’s either. I don’t think it’s a sign at all. _ _  
_ _ I just think I should finish school here now. It makes sense, doesn’t it? _

_ I think it makes perfect sense. _ _  
_ _ I just want to make sure you’re happy there. _ _  
_ _ I know just from texting you that you seem happy. _

Nicole knows that her answer to Dolls, that her decision is neither a good nor bad sign, is a transparent lie. She does not, in honesty, know why she said it. She _ is _ happy here, and Dolls is right. Her updates to him have, quite without any intention or forethought, revealed how good her life has become. Her reticence is all in that strange little scratch of emotion at the back of her throat when she thinks about the finality of this decision.

Reasonably, she knows nothing is final. But this feels final. It feels big; much, much bigger than Nicole herself.

By way of response she writes, _ I’m doing well here. I’m getting good grades and I’m enjoying playing soccer. Everything works here. _

Either reading between the lines or electing not to push Nicole for clarification, Dolls breezes past her answer.

_ Well, so long as the decision you make is what you want, I’m good with that. _

_ Can you give me a day or two just to feel it out? I’ll confirm tomorrow or Monday, if that’s not too late. _

_ That’s fine. I’ll follow your lead on this. _ _  
_ _ For what it’s worth, though _ _  
_ _ (And I’m sorry for giving an opinion on something that’s not my business) _ _  
_ _ Much as I miss you, I hope you decide not to run away from Purgatory next month. _

_ I miss you too dude. _ _  
_ _ Thank you. _

As the conversation peters out, Nicole decides to try and draft out a proper explanation to Dolls, one she can send in an hour or a day. One apologising that she left in the first place, and that she cannot come back as soon as she thought. She tries to explain how she is feeling, but the words don’t come out right, so she saves her attempts and puts her phone away, trying instead to concentrate on reading her library book. She is already about a quarter of the way through but her focus is nowhere near its usual standards. She is struggling to warm to the book, and is preoccupied by her own endless whirring thoughts. She cannot help but be frustrated at herself. Anyone would want the chance she has been given. So many people would think her an idiot, not to mention completely selfish, for considering throwing it all away.

So why, she wonders, is it so hard for her to let go once and for all?

  
  
  
  
  


The next day sees the whole family, along with Nicole, venture out in the middle of the morning to select a Christmas tree for the house. The adjoining (and very, _ very _small) Winter Wonderland reminds Nicole a little of the fall festival; diminutive in a way that almost renders it underwhelming, but still charming in its earnestness. Gus and Curtis buy them all hot chocolate, except for Waverly who suffers the lack of a vegan milk option. She orders a wintry, spiced tea for herself, and cradles a reusable cup carefully between her mittens as they wander round.

Nicole cannot remember the last time her parents took her to pick out a tree, much less when the holidays were a particularly special event in her home. She can recall a time when she believed in Santa and when she rushed downstairs to find the gifts he had left for, so one relative or another must have upheld the illusion for her, at least for a while. She remembers Christmas meals at large dining tables too, but whether they were at her home or someone else’s is not a detail that had stuck with her.

Certainly, her parents had never been heartless enough to go wandering and leave her alone during the holidays, but such was the strained nature of their relationship with Nicole, it was a close call as to whether it would have been better if they had simply left her alone.

At times, some of the satellite family members who had tried valiantly but sporadically to look out for Nicole would drift into orbit during the holidays, but their efforts, while appreciated, often made Nicole feel more lonely. 

Christmas at the McCreadys’ house, however, was likely to be an entirely different affair. She didn’t imagine it would be particularly raucous or busy, but she didn’t for a second think she would feel lonely. It was hard to feel lonely here. 

She certainly does not feel lonely for the rest of the day, as she helps the family trim the newly bought Christmas tree, and then assists Curtis in fixing lights to the exterior of the house and to a couple of trees in the yard. Even Wynonna throws herself into the task, only pretending to gag or be disdainful a couple of times when confronted with some of Waverly’s more enthusiastic decoration ideas. 

By the time Gus and Curtis need to head into town to work at Shorty’s, the house is mostly decorated, and from all angles looks vaguely reminiscent of a fairytale gingerbread house with its squat, wooden exterior twinkling amongst all the snow. 

There are still a few small tasks to complete, and these are assigned to Waverly and Nicole the next morning, presumably to keep them busy on their first real day away from school. Gus, Curtis, and Wynonna all leave the house together on some obscure errand that Nicole thinks is actually to do with buying Waverly’s Christmas presents. 

Regardless, it means that she and Waverly have the house to themselves, which is a luxurious rarity.

As a result, Waverly seems in no hurry to complete their task, her evident fervour for the holiday season notwithstanding. The day before, she had been in her element, adding decorations to the tree and across the house. Today, however, she is relaxed and easygoing, content to take a break in the mid-morning and rest on the couch. She encourages Nicole to sit with her, and as soon as Nicole sits down, Waverly drapes her feet over Nicole’s legs. 

They sit and sip from cans of Diet Coke pilfered from the back of the fridge.

Neither speaks, but Waverly fidgets her feet as she watches TV, and Nicole scrolls on her phone, her message to Dolls up as she makes another attempt at wording her final confirmation that she is going to stay here with the McCreadys. She had woken up that morning feeling far less anxious about choosing a path, but still it is difficult to phrase the whole thing in a message. She knows that Dolls will not ask for an explanation and that he will be content to know Nicole is happy in her new life, but he was once the only friend Nicole had. She might also have Robin and Waverly and Chrissy now, but Dolls will always be just as special to her. She wants to explain things to him and wants him to understand why she has held off so long on doing what has reasonably been inevitable for weeks now.

Staying in Purgatory truly does feel like a given, and it feels that way most of all when Nicole and Waverly are together. There is a happy, peaceful feeling settled around the two girls that morning, one of comfort and safety, and this makes Nicole’s resolve to rip the bandage off now even stronger. Words, however, are not always cooperative, so she abandons her task for the second time and leaves her phone on the coffee table right next to Waverly’s.

“Want to finish decorating?” she asks and Waverly gaze drifts immediately from the TV to Nicole.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling softly. The look is tender and mellow, familiar on Waverly’s face when she interacts with Nicole, and it makes Nicole’s stomach flip in a way that she is almost, almost getting used to ignoring. “If you want to. Do you like Christmas?”

“I don’t know,” Nicole answers honestly. “Never been given much of a chance to find out. I think I’ll like this one though. And I like all the decorating. I like how much fun you’ve been having with it too.”

“It’s one of my favourite times of year,” Waverly explains, although this had been self-evident from her glee yesterday.

“When you’ve had other people stay here, do they ever go home for Christmas?”

“It depends,” Waverly says slowly, evidently thinking. “Mostly, no. Some don’t really have a safe place to go back to, others aren’t far enough along in their progress for it to be a good idea. A couple have done, though. They’ll go back to other relatives like grandparents or something usually. How come?”

“No reason. It just feels like another level of welcoming someone, you know? Opening up a family holiday for them. Just wondered.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re going to be here for Christmas,” Waverly says, grinning.

“I’m glad too.”

They both smile and, a moment later, Nicole excuses herself to use the bathroom, stopping to check the time on her phone before leaving the room.

It takes her all of ten seconds, upon returning, to decide that something is wrong.

The television is off and the silence in the room is all wrong. Waverly is no longer sprawled on the couch but sat stiffly to one side, legs pressed together, elbows on her knees, and head bent.

Nicole cannot see Waverly’s face, but there is something in her stature that sets off alarm bells in Nicole’s mind.

“Shall we get decorating then?” Nicole says, deliberately testing the water. 

“No,” Waverly replies quietly, her tone confirming Nicole’s suspicions. “I’d rather talk about you leaving Purgatory.”

“Sorry?” Nicole asks, feeling her heart fly into her mouth and her face grow hot.

“I went to check my phone,” Waverly goes on, still not looking at Nicole. “I wasn’t looking and ended up with yours instead. You must have unlocked it when you checked it just before. I wasn’t going to look. Obviously. But I’d already seen what was up on the screen before I realised it wasn’t my phone. Someone called Xavier Dolls hopes you decide not to run away from Purgatory next month. Was that why you wanted to know about other people staying here for Christmas? Or pure coincidence?”

Waverly looks up and it is obvious she has already made her mind up on her own question, and she quite clearly does not think of it as a coincidence. Worse still, is the way she is looking at Nicole, her expression all confusion and hurt and anger mixed into one.

Nicole feels her body go from hot to cold in a matter of moments.

“Waverly, it’s not – ” she begins, before realising that it is _ precisely _ what it looks like. “I can explain.”

Waverly stands up. “You don’t have to explain. I think I can work it all out for myself. You’ve been here a few months, you’ve let my family care for you and grow to care _ about _ you. You’ve let me...” Waverly’s voice snags in her throat, pulling and thinning like a thread caught on something sharp. “You let us think you cared too. But you were never planning on staying.”

“Please. That’s not the whole story.”

“But it _ is _ part of the story,” Waverly’s voice grows thick, and Nicole realises with horror that she has made Waverly cry. “You _ were _ going to leave.”

“When I first came here,” Nicole replies, with no intentions but to offer Waverly the truth. “Before I’d even stepped onto the plane. I asked my friend if he’d come get me in his car once I was eighteen. I’d just been told I had to go live with strangers. I was scared. I just wanted to know I’d be able to go back to what was familiar.”

“And he still thinks you’re going.” Waverly manages to pitch this perfectly as half question, half assertion.

It stops Nicole in her tracks for a second, because it is neither precisely true nor untrue.

“Waverly…”

“That’s all I need to know,” Waverly interjects, already crossing the room and brushing past Nicole. “My aunt and uncle took you in and all this time you’ve been planning to run away. Do you have any idea how selfish that makes you? How ungrateful? After everything they’ve done - you don’t even care about me - about us, I mean - do you?” 

“Waverly, please…”

“No. I want to be alone. You got your little run around the garden last time we fought. Don’t follow me.”

For five minutes, then ten, then longer, Nicole complies. Waverly was right. She had taken space when she was angry and wanted to get away. But the sound of the back door slamming continues reverberating around her mind well after the house grows silent, and Nicole cannot settle for thinking about Waverly.

She has ruined everything. Of course, eventually, she was going to ruin everything. She had driven her parents away somehow, so much so they never even wanted to be around her, and now she had driven Waverly away too.

She realises eventually that Waverly has left her phone on the coffee table and, upon inspection, that her thick coat is still on its hanger by the back door.

Nicole is in no doubt where Waverly has gone so she puts on her own coat and shoes before collecting Waverly’s stuff and heading outside.

She tells herself the whole way to the clearing in the woods that she will just give Waverly her stuff. Just so she isn’t cold. Just so she can call someone if she needs to. Just so she’s safe. _ Waverly has be safe. And warm _. 

Then, she will leave if Waverly wants her to. She will leave the clearing or the house or even Purgatory, just like she intended in the first place.

She doesn’t _ want _to. But she will. If Waverly commands it, she will. There are tears in her eyes and cold air against her cheeks as she takes the path to the woods by foot. She knows the way through the trees well enough, but in the deep snow she worries she has grown lost until, eventually, she finds the clearing and, thankfully, Waverly standing within it.

Nicole had thought she had been quiet, but, with her back turned, Waverly says, “I told you not to follow me.”

“You didn’t have your phone. Or your coat,” Nicole replies. “I was worried. I’ll go again but -”

Waverly whirls around, her eyes alight with anger and frustration.

“You won’t have to worry when you’ve left,” she snaps, but she takes – or, more aptly, snatches – her things from Nicole’s arms nonetheless. She starts pulling on her coat, her movements jerky and inaccurate, although whether through anger or cold or both it is hard to tell. Nicole wants to help her, but knows it would be the wrong move.

“I’ll always worry, always care,” Nicole says quietly.

“You don’t care,” Waverly retorts, voice small and sad. “The people who leave don’t care.” 

“That’s not true. It’s not that simple,” Nicole replies, even as a voice in her head tells her that, actually, it’s very simple. She loves Waverly. She loves Gus and Curtis and Wynonna too, albeit in other ways. She likes her life here. She has a good life here. She didn’t want to actively leave Purgatory, she didn’t even particularly want to go back to Ottawa. But that was hard, admitting she was done with a place that she had tried to survive in for so long. 

“I think it’s very simple. You were going to just disappear. Just leave us worried, searching around for you, wondering if something bad had happened. You were going to let my aunt and uncle do all this good stuff for you, then you were never going to look back. At least the other ones who ran left within a week or two. You faked this for _ months _. You’re a really great liar, but I found that out the other day, when you lied to Gus about why we were in the treehouse.”

This snaps a little of Nicole’s temper. This was more than a little unfair.

“And you’re doing what, exactly?” Nicole retorts sharply. “To Gus, that is?” 

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither is comparing what we’re arguing about to me telling a white lie to Gus to protect _ your _ secret.”

An expression flickers over Waverly’s face; one of acquiescence. It seems to say that she thinks Nicole is right, but it disappears a moment later. Waverly does not want Nicole to be right at the moment, and Nicole can understand that. 

“I think there’s a bit of a difference between a false equivalence and what you’re planning on doing.” 

Ignoring, for a moment, the fact that she is not planning on leaving, Nicole says, “I’m really sorry that this has happened. That you saw this and found out about something I’d wanted to do when I came here. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t. I was scared, though. I’m not making that up. I know I had a shitty life back in Ottawa but it was what I knew. I didn’t know who you all were, if you’d be kind or if you’d all hate me.”

“But then you found out that you weren’t hated so what’s your excuse for the past three months of lies?” Waverly asks coldly.

“Do you really believe any of this is that simple?” Nicole responds, a little sharper than intended. She wants to be patient, because Waverly’s reaction is understandable, but she also isn’t trying to put herself in Nicole’s position as it was earlier in the year. “That me putting off reflecting on everything that’s happened to me recently is just as simple as me being duplicitous?”

Waverly opens her mouth and then closes it. She does understand; she is too smart and has been through too much in her own life to fail to understand. But she is angry and hurt, and she probably deserves to be angry and hurt. 

“I don’t know what to believe,” Waverly admits, still angry. Her voice is still loud and harsh as a result. “I thought that you - I - that we - well, whatever I thought. It was stupid, wasn’t it?” She lets out a little scoff that is tearful and harsh, the hurt in her voice difficult for Nicole to stomach. 

“It wasn’t stupid. It was - is - real. I was being honest with you. And I think that’s been self-evident.”

“Honest except for the part where you were lying about leaving us in a few weeks. You’ve had months to tell your friend you were staying.”

“I’ve been here months,” Nicole corrects. “It’s been months of learning and relearning and unlearning different things. It’s been a process. And yes, it’s been a good process. But it hasn’t been easy.” 

“Well then why?” Waverly cries, looking and sounding increasingly exasperated. “After all this time here, if it’s been so good, why are you still planning to go?” 

“I wasn’t going to do it,” Nicole says, trying to keep her voice even. This matters, and she wants to get it right. “I wanted to stay.” 

“Well, that’s convenient,” Waverly scoffs. “Now you’ve been found out.”

“That’s not true,” Nicole protests. She pulls one glove off, takes her own phone out of her pocket, and unlocks it. Her hands are shaking, but it has very little to do with the cold. She pulls up her notes app, before handing the phone across to Waverly. “Here. Please. Just look.”

Still looking dangerously upset, Waverly takes the phone. She looks at the screen and, slowly, understanding dawns as she realises what she is reading. It is date stamped, so there is no way Nicole can have written it all out now. 

Nicole had gone through perhaps five or six different versions of her text to Dolls, and they are all there for Waverly to see. Nicole sees it on Waverly’s face, the very moment she believes that she is being told the truth. Still, however, she is angry.

“But you still haven’t sent it, have you?” she cries, eyes narrowed as she looks at Nicole with an expression – anger and hurt and disappointment all at once – that she has never worn in any of their conversations before. “So it's worth nothing to me. If you wanted to stay, you’d have sent it by now. So why? Why haven’t you?”

Waverly voice continues to rise, and her tone and volume combined send a couple of hardy birds skittering from their perches in the trees.

In spite of herself, Waverly’s anger is a match to the kindling of Nicole’s own frustrations, and she struggles against her temper.

“Because it’s _ hard_,” she replies, voice just as loud.

“What’s so hard, Nicole?” Waverly shouts. “Being taken in by people who wanted to help? Being given a chance? Being cared for? Being so damn selfish about what my family have given you?” 

Nicole’s response, when it comes, when she shouts it back at Waverly, shocks her. She hadn’t thought about the words. She hadn’t even realised they were in her. 

“It’s hard admitting that it’s all over, okay? That I’m done, that my family are gone for good.” Her voice echoes around the trees, the silent, snowy landscape so strange in the way it both muffles and amplifies sound. 

An unexpected burst of emotion slams into her. She hadn’t realised she had been holding back tears, but she must have been, because they spill over her cheeks with far more intensity than during the walk to the clearing. The force of them knocks her sideways. This is not silent tears, not how they had been a few minutes earlier. This is loud, angry, last-gasp of a fight tears. This is two steps away from giving in. 

With perhaps the exception of their fight about Champ, Waverly has never seen Nicole cry like this before, and it seems to shock her into silence. The anger on her face fades into something closer to uncertainty.

Feeling suddenly drained, Nicole storms a few paces away to an old, gnarled up tree stump. It is not much of a seat, but it is better than nothing. She slumps down and presses her face into her hands – all the better to hide the tears – and she _ cries _.

This is it, she realises. This is the thing that she hadn’t wanted to feel. This is the truth she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. It is over. Something is finishing. 

It hurts; it all hurts so much. It hurts like she never expected it to. She retreats into that feeling, wondering if it is possible to drown in it. The dam is gone. It had been so tall and so strong and so carefully constructed Nicole didn’t even realise what was hiding behind it. She hadn’t consciously fought this realisation. She had kept it buried completely. 

After a moment, she senses Waverly close by. The other girl pauses for a while but then her voice, so tiny and fearful, draws Nicole back somewhat from the feelings piling on top of her.

“Nicole? Please. Say something.”

Nicole takes a deep, shuddering breath. She splits the heels of her hands apart so that she can be heard, but she continues holding her fingers to the rest of her face, pressing them against her eyes to try to stem the tears.

“I know I want to stay here until I graduate. I’ve known for ages that I wasn’t going back,” Nicole begins, voice thick with tears. “But actually telling Dolls? That means I have to admit that I have nothing besides him to go back for. That it’s over.”

“I don’t understand – ”

Finally, Nicole looks up, her tears growing painfully cold on her cheeks in the frosty air.

“I can’t begin to tell you,” she snaps, quite without meaning to, “how _ long _ I’ve pretended that one day I’ll make my parents want me. Do you realise that I’ve been here all this time and they’ve never even called me? Not once. Did you ever even think about that? Because I try not to think about it at all. Because it hurts. And you know what? I just keep telling myself I’m over it, but then something will hit me and I’ll realise I’m so far from over it that it’ll make me hate myself all over again. I came out of my last exam yesterday feeling like I might actually get good grades this year. And just for a second I thought that maybe I could text my mom if I do actually do well. Maybe she’ll be proud. And that? That is legitimately stupid. _ Beyond _ stupid, in fact. But in my head I’ve still been thinking that they’ll snap out of it. That I can go back and I’ll have a home in my city.”

“Nicole, I’m – ”

“And I know I won’t. I’ve known for ages. I don't even want a home without you guys. You think I’m not aware of what Gus and Curtis have given me, but I _ am_. And I’ve been ungrateful - I’m aware of that. And I’m sorry, truly I am. But it’s not easy, admitting to yourself that it’s over, it’s done. I might never go back to Ottawa. I might never see my parents again – because it’s obvious they don’t care if they see _ me _ again. I might never see my house or my cat or anything else. And when I send that text to Dolls, yes it’s me acknowledging everything good I have here. I already know you and your family are my home now. That part’s the really, really easy part. But the rest of it? That’s hard, Waverly. It’s so _ damn _hard. I wasn’t enough. Even after I came here, all on my own, and did okay. It still isn’t going to be enough. And I’ll never get to end this on my own terms. That’s the thing. I never finished that part of my life on my own terms. They won. They didn’t want me, and maybe I’m never, ever going back. That's what I think I'll mean when I tell Dolls not to come get me. And yes, that's my choice and I know I could go back at some other time but the longer I leave it...the longer my parents don't speak to me...It's just - over, isn't it? It's -”

Despite her best efforts, Nicole’s voice breaks again, so much so that she cannot finish speaking. She drops her head all the way back into her hands, still not wanting to cry so much in front of Waverly.

“You _ are _ Nicole, you are enough. I know it’s not the same, I know it’s not as good. But you’re enough for all of us. We love you. We didn’t expect to, not like this, not so that it feels like you’ve always been here. But that’s how we all feel. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said about you not caring about what my aunt and uncle have done for you. You’re not ungrateful or selfish, not at all.”

Nicole laughs tearfully to herself. “You’re right. It’s not as good as my parents loving me. It’s better. It’s so much better, so maybe you’re mad that I hadn’t sent that message to Dolls yet, but I’m just as mad at myself. No one’s ever taught me how to accept all this. No one’s ever told me it’s okay to feel this stuff as much as I do. I mean, I taught myself. I know it’s okay. I care so much about you…” Nicole says, before bottling it and adding, “…all. I care so much about you all. Everything good that I have is because I came here. I wasn’t gonna go, but I just have to grieve leaving my parents first. And I’m sorry for that. I’m so sorry.”

Yet again, the tears make her voice crack, and try as she might, she cannot seem to make herself stop crying. Crying, in fact, is a generous interpretation of the sobs she tries to hold in. This is awful. All of it. The uncontrollable crying, and the fact that it is happening in front of Waverly. The genuine remorse she feels for not being able to let go sooner. The love she has for the McCreadys and the Earps. The disappointment she feels in herself for never being enough for her parents. It is all mixed up and swirled together and it is just _ too much _. 

After a moment, however, she feels Waverly against her and the effect is almost instantaneous.

Waverly is still standing, so when she wraps her arms around Nicole, it brings Nicole’s head – still with her hands over her face – directly against Waverly’s chest. One of Waverly’s hands scrabbles at Nicole’s neck and shoulders, pulling her tight, and the other cups gently against Nicole’s hair. Waverly drops her cheek onto Nicole’s crown so that, for all intents and purposes, Waverly is wrapped around her completely.

They are both cold, but soon enough the air between them warms up. There is a peace between Waverly’s arms that is like nothing Nicole has ever known, and eventually her haggard breathing evens out, and although the tears still fall it is more contained than before. She can hear Waverly’s heart beneath her ear, and realises how fast it is beating. She can feel every quiet breath Waverly takes.

“Don’t you dare,” Waverly whispers after a while. “Don’t you dare be sorry, okay? _ I’m _ sorry. This is hard for you, and I didn’t even try to see it. I just…I saw that you were leaving, and I got scared. I don’t want you to ever leave me.”

“I’m not going to,” Nicole says, aware that Waverly will only hear her because they are pressed so tightly together. Trying for a joke, she adds, “well, I mean, not next month. I guess eventually I’ll kinda have to give you your room back – but not until I graduate.”

“No,” Waverly replies, her voice strange as she steps back and gently pushes Nicole’s hands away from her face. Waverly’s soft, cold fingers find Nicole’s cheeks, wiping at her tears. “I don’t want you to _ ever _ leave me. Please.”

Nicole thinks she knows what Waverly is saying, and she feels her heart start to race again at the thought of it. Still, she has to be certain that she is not reading the signs wrong. She has to _ know _ that Waverly is sure too.

“Pretty sure your aunt and uncle will need me out from under their feet eventually…”

“No,” Waverly whispers again, tone firm.

She gives Nicole one last, quick glance and, Nicole realises, she looks terrified.

All the same, with her hands still cupping Nicole cheeks, Waverly dips down and kisses her softly, so softly it might be just be a dream.

She does it once, then she does it again, and then, on the third time, Nicole kisses her back.

Dimly, Nicole realises she is still crying and she thinks Waverly might be crying too.

Her suspicions are confirmed when, a moment later, Waverly pulls back and bumps their noses together and both their faces are wet.

With their lips almost touching, Waverly breathes, “promise me you’ll never leave.”

With a jolt, Nicole understands something that should perhaps have been obvious for a long time.

People had been leaving Waverly Earp her whole life. It makes guilt and sadness and _ love _ twist in Nicole’s belly at all once.

“I promise.”

Waverly smiles. Then, she kisses her again. 

  
  
  


Nicole gives a little gasp as she fights to break their lips apart.

"Do you think maybe we should ta-" 

"_No_," Waverly says with a smile that it is impish and a little wanton. She has her lips on Nicole's again in moments.

Nicole _ likes _ this side of Waverly. 

  
  
  


“Don’t get me wrong, I just really think we should talk about this. And maybe go inside. You’re freezing.” 

Waverly sighs, imperious and playful and absolutely a different person from the scared, angry, _ lonely _ girl that had shouted at Nicole a moment before. 

“_Fine_,” she huffs, pretending to be put out. “But if everyone else is back, you can explain what we’ve been doing here. And this time, you don’t have a board game to bail you out.”

Nicole laughs, tears and hurt forgotten for now. There is no doubt in her mind that she will need to revisit this all, perhaps with Waverly but probably with Curtis. She needs to exorcise the thoughts about not being enough and about not ending things with her family on her own terms. There surely has to be another solution, one that does not involve either running back to the city or letting sadness and regret sit with her over a long period of time.

For now, however, Waverly holds her hand on the walk back, and by the time they have to let go, both of their palms are warm.

The rest of the family are still out when they return, which does not exactly spur the girls on to finish decorating the house. They dawdle in the kitchen under the pretence of boiling the kettle and making tea to warm them up.

Nicole rests against the kitchen counters, nestled into the space where two make a right angle. After collecting her milk from the fridge (Nicole had long been converted to dairy-free in her tea and coffee), Waverly traps Nicole in the nook, although the latter had no further designs for an escape plan of any kind. Waverly stretches up and Nicole hunches down, both just altering their heights ever so slightly, and kiss for so long they have to re-boil the kettle to make the tea.

Nicole would not have guessed that Waverly would act like this – so confident, so sure about kissing another girl - but, in truth, she had never really let herself imagine this eventuality at all. A part of her does not yet believe it is happening. Waverly’s lips on her own are soft and warm, and it is only the fact that she alternates between a pressure that is feather-light and then firm and then back again that Nicole really believes that she is experiencing this for real.

Waverly seems to like to anchor her hands in Nicole’s hair, nails scratching lightly, fingers pulling gently. It makes Nicole’s scalp tingle and her head swim, and all she can seem to do is lightly rest her fingers on Waverly’s hips and keep them both steady.

After a time, they do manage to finish the task of decorating the house, but it takes substantially longer than necessary due to a combination of kissing and talking. It is, apparently, difficult to ignore sprigs of fake, plasticky mistletoe in this context, and they take great advantage of its presence at the bottom of one large, battered cardboard box.

They do not speak much until they are working together to hang strings of fairy lights and glittering snowflake ornaments from the rafters in the living room. Nicole stands on a small stepladder, and Waverly passes everything up to her.

“How long?” Waverly asks quietly, sounding surprisingly shy for a girl who had just had Nicole pinned up against a kitchen counter. For the avoidance of doubt, she gestures between the two of them, but Nicole had understood the question immediately.

“It’s hard to pinpoint exactly. It sort of crept up on me. There were a few signs pretty early; like, the first time we went out to Hetty’s mom’s diner. But the fall festival was a big one. I think that was the point where I realised I wasn’t gonna make it go away.”

“You wanted to, then?” Waverly asks, trying and failing to sound casual. “Make it go away?”

“Yes and no,” Nicole answers honestly, sticking up a snowflake. “No because I liked liking you, and because you’re amazing. Yes because you were my friend and roommate and I didn’t know if you were straight. And it all just felt a little invasive and inappropriate and stuff to be crushing that hard on someone whose Uncle was, well…I don’t have to tell you. You know.”

“I do,” Waverly answers, smiling. Evidently, Nicole’s answer had been a good one.

“And you?” Nicole goes on, now taking her own turn to fail to sound nonchalant. “How long?”

“I guess, kinda the same?” Waverly says, sounding a little unsure. Nicole finds herself feeling similarly. It is hard to believe that Waverly had been feeling things as far back as their first diner trip.

“You guess?” Nicole asks, but she is mostly teasing.

Waverly pokes her tongue out. “Yeah. The same but also kind of different. I still hadn’t realised, I don’t think. Not for a while. That I didn’t just like you as a really, _ really _ close friend.” Waverly laughs, self-effacing and a little embarrassed. “But looking back now there was _ something _ going on long before I realised it. But then I did realise, and it was like a double whammy: firstly, the same as what you felt about it maybe being inappropriate, and also like ‘oh…this is something new to me’. Well, it was kinda new.”

“And how are you feeling about it now? The fact that I’m a girl?”

Waverly considers this for a moment. “Okay, I think. I still don’t think I’ve unpacked it enough. But it doesn’t feel bad. But anyway, liking you makes it all easy.”

Much to her own surprise, Nicole finds her cheeks growing hot as she struggles for a response. Silently, she pins up the last of the snowflakes and steps back off the ladder.

Waverly notices the pink of her cheeks and laughs. “I never thought I’d be the one making you tongue-tied. That’s what you do to me.”

Nicole does not say it, but she finds herself thinking that she never thought Waverly would be so honest so quickly. She likes it, however, and likes even more how Waverly steals more kisses. 

Even if it had faced any decent competition, that first Christmas in Purgatory would still have been the best of Nicole’s life.

Her time off school is filled with a surprising mishmash of activities, all of them intertwining with the notion of Christmas in Nicole’s mind, probably forever more.

There are long mornings in Shorty’s bar, helping Gus with the increase in trade. There are nervous, unsure afternoons at the Sheriff’s office, letting Chrissy’s dad tell her all about being a cop, and earning some money with the painfully boring task of filing and organising old files and documents. (It probably isn’t strictly relevant to her university applications, but it still looks good to be trusted by a Sheriff). She saves up a pretty decent amount of cash, then promptly puts a rather large dent in it by deciding one lunchtime to buy Christmas gifts for Curtis, Gus, Waverly, and Wynonna. She wraps them the same night in secret and stows them beneath her bed, excited to surprise the family on Christmas morning.

There are endearing, sweet family activities, mostly revolving around baking with Gus. Making gingerbread seems to be a tradition, and Gus helps Waverly and Nicole make and cook the dough before disappearing off to Shorty’s to work. Sheriff Nedley drops Chrissy and Robin around and together they build a rickety, over-iced house amidst chatter and laughter. When they are done they place the house on the coffee table as a questionable centrepiece, and Nicole and Waverly usher Chrissy and Robin onto the couch while they make hot chocolate with candy canes. Out of sight, Nicole kisses granules of sugar off Waverly’s smiling lips and knows she has never been happier than this.

More than anything else that Christmas, there is always Waverly. There is rushing home after time spent at the police station, desperate to see her and hold her close. There are walks amongst the snow, hands held with warm woolly gloves between their skin. There is sneaking out to the treehouse at night to huddle together under blankets and talk and talk and talk until 3AM. There are books about lawkeepers and villains of the past, and Nicole’s ongoing attempts to understand more and be the best possible support to Waverly. There are the stolen, daring, frightened, exhilirating kisses they share in Waverly’s bedroom, praying that no one will walk in unexpectedly.

(They both know they cannot mention any of this to Gus or Curtis or even Wynonna right now. They are both okay with that. They need to figure things out first and need to get to know this feeling that keeps growing and shifting and strengthening between them. This is their time and they both know this implicitly, without ever once speaking the words.)

There are tangled limbs beneath bedsheets and hands and lips to muffle laughter and moans that slip out unexpectedly. There are shirts and sweaters on the floor between their twin beds. Bras too. There are hands and thighs and shins touching beneath the dinner table. Waverly’s head on Nicole’s shoulder as they watch movies on the couch.

There is waking up on Christmas morning in her bed, Waverly ruffled and half-bare in her arms.

For what must be the first time ever, it is Waverly who wakes first. She rouses Nicole with soft, wet, warm kisses on her neck and throat and collar.

Nicole feels herself stir with a groggy, confused groan. “Waves? What – ”

“Wake up,” Waverly whispers, lips against Nicole’s skin. “It’s Christmas.”

Waverly’s words and actions combined lift Nicole out of sleep. She coaxes Waverly upwards with hands at her shoulders for a kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispers, smiling. “I’m happy I’m here.”

Waverly beams back. “Merry Christmas. I’m happy you’re here.”

This was something they had taken to saying to each other in the wake of Waverly finding out about Nicole’s past plan. They had not explicitly discussed it since, and at first Nicole worried it might be a splinter in the flesh of their relationship, not big enough to hurt but still something that could fester. As the days passed, however, it became obvious that the storm had dissipated. It was not that they would never talk about it again, it was that they had said everything for now. Nicole, with Waverly’s encouragement, had told Dolls an abridged version of her confession to Waverly. She had cried again and Waverly had kissed the tears off her cheeks. Waverly had always known, deep down, that it had not been a serious, deliberate deception on Nicole’s part. She knew as much as anyone that letting go was hard, even if you were walking towards something great. They trusted each other just as much as ever. It was all okay. It was all so much better than okay. 

“I got you something,” Nicole murmurs, sitting up in bed and reaching out to pick up their t-shirts from the floor. They both cover themselves, still a little young, still a little awkward and shy with each other.

Waverly says nothing, but looks surprised when Nicole retrieves a gift from under the bed.

“You didn’t – I didn’t expect you – ”

Waverly struggles to find the words as she accepts a card and an oddly-shaped parcel. Eventually, she manages to ask, “how?”

“I’m getting paid to work with Chrissy’s dad.”

Waverly’s eyes grow wide. “But that’s for _ you _. So you can make it to college this year. You shouldn’t have spent it on me.”

“I didn’t spend all of it. But I wanted to get you something. All of you.”

Nodding and looking a little as though she is grappling with her emotions, Waverly works her way through opening first a cheesy, romantic Christmas card that Nicole had ordered online because she was too paranoid to buy it in one of the shops in town. It does not go as far as saying the word ‘girlfriend’ anywhere, but Nicole is working on that. Out of the parcel falls an expensive-looking notebook with an embroidered cover (“it’s all vegan, no leather or anything,” Nicole explains hastily, “I know you’ve nearly filled the last one up with your research”), a pretty, dusky pink scarf to replace one that had started to unravel, and a box that contained a small necklace, sterling silver but not all that expensive. It had an arrow pendant connecting the chain; pretty and simple and less cliché than buying the one with a wave attached. It had made Nicole think of Waverly’s song, the one she had shared on their first trip to the diner. _ Follow your arrow wherever it points_. She hopes Waverly always will.

She explains this logic to Waverly, who takes the necklace out of the box and wordlessly lets it slither between her fingers.

“None of it’s much,” Nicole goes on as Waverly looks carefully at everything. In the way of gift-giving, sometimes, suddenly everything looks to Nicole’s eyes as trite and inconsequential. Much less, certainly, than Waverly deserves.

“Are you kidding?” Waverly murmurs. “It’s amazing. It’s all so me, so perfect.”

It is clear that her quiet mood is because she is awed and touched and grateful, but still Nicole needs to check.

“Are you sure? You can switch any of it if you want…”

“I don’t,” Waverly says firmly. “I’m going to keep all of it and treasure it. Will you put the necklace on for me?”

Buying a necklace with a wave might have felt too cliché to Nicole, but some clichés had earned their stripes, and she delighted in kissing the soft, sweet skin at the back of Waverly’s neck before fixing the necklace in place.

“I got you something too,” Waverly says, turning around, “but it’s downstairs under the tree.”

Nicole is surprised by this, but more surprised when the family congregates downstairs and it turns out that everyone, and not just Waverly, has bought presents for her. Admittedly, Wynonna had given her a gift card (but it was a useful, well-thought out gift card, and still an expense all the same), but there were numerous gifts from Gus, Curtis, and Waverly. All of them were perfect and thoughtful and unexpected. Nicole would have been embarrassed at the way she had grown emotional, genuinely prepared not to receive a single gift, but rather feeling privileged simply to sit and watch the McCready’s Christmas from a spot on the sidelines. It is okay though, if she gets a bit teary, because so does everyone else when she surprises them with their gifts. Clearly, Gus, Curtis, and Wynonna hadn’t bought Nicole's presents with an expectation of reciprocity, because they are genuinely shocked at Nicole’s actions. They react much the same as Waverly, telling her that she should save her money for college, but they are each more emotional – with the exception of Wynonna – than Nicole herself had been a moment before.

Shocking everyone by dabbing slightly at her eyes, Gus pulls Nicole into a firm hug.

“You sweet, lovely girl. Thank you,” she murmurs in Nicole’s ear.

After everyone composes themselves and Wynonna and Curtis open the last two gifts, Waverly touches Nicole’s hand lightly when she knows that no one is looking.

“Hey,” she whispers and Nicole meets her eye. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Nicole smiles. “I’m glad I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all the fluff hit the right notes!!
> 
> Your comments really mean the world to me and I'd love to hear from you either here or on twitter (@rositabustiiios).
> 
> Apologies in advance if my update next week is a little late. It shouldn't be, but I'll have a busy Monday and just wanted to let you all know in advance.
> 
> Until then, take care!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Sorry for the ever so late update (but at least it's still Monday!) 
> 
> I was absolutely blown away by your responses to the last chapter. I am also so relieved that the explanation behind Nicole's feelings hit the mark for you. I hope this chapter continues to do so.

“We haven’t done this in a while. I’m sorry,” Curtis says from atop the ladder, carefully unwinding the Christmas lights that he and Nicole had so painstakingly put up such a short time before. She stands below him again, this time coiling the lights around her arm instead of feeding them up to him. They will be leaving up the indoor decorations a little while longer, but with farm work and the bar, Curtis apparently wants to take the time while it is available to him.

Just like that, Christmas was over. New Year’s Eve, too. Gus and Curtis had let Nicole and Waverly go out to celebrate and although they had been invited to a few parties, they instead elected to go over to Chrissy’s house. Robin had joined them. The Sheriff had been out at work. Waverly and Chrissy – both already eighteen – had gone to the store and bought them cheap wine and beer. They were all pretty sure that Chrissy’s dad would not have allowed them to drink as much as they did, so it still felt pretty rebellious. Nicole didn’t kiss Waverly at midnight like she wanted to, but they still managed to sneak away pretty soon after. It was still the first thing Nicole did that year. But like Christmas, though, the New Year’s Eve celebrations ended quickly. All too quick, too fleeting. 

The afterglow, however, had lingered for all of them. It had been a peaceful, serene celebration; no family arguments, no upheavals, none of the busyness of the weeks before. Everyone relaxed. Everyone exhaled. It had been magical. But like all good things, it had passed and Nicole was almost, almost okay with that.

She wasn’t quite ready to go back to school, because school meant facing the results of her finals and the college application deadlines. It also meant less uninterrupted time with Waverly, and the desperate attempts to hide what they were to each other now.

Neither of them was stupid. They knew they had to hide this. More than that, on some odd, obscure level (and very much for the first time in her life) Nicole sort of wants to hide it. This thing between them is precious and delicate and beautiful; a butterfly’s wing. She doesn’t want anyone at school stomping on it.

“It’s not your fault,” Nicole tells Curtis eventually. She does not know how long she had been lost to herself, how long it had taken for his words to break through. “It’s been busy.”

Curtis chuckles to himself, just loud enough for Nicole to hear. “Well I’m glad you  _ are _ listening.”

“Sorry. Just in my head today.”

“That’s okay. Although you’ve seemed to be in your head a fair bit recently. In fact, I hope you don’t mind my saying but…you seem different. Happier in some ways. But somehow sadder too. More contemplative. Has the time off school been giving you more time to reflect?”

“I suppose. I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents.”

“Okay,” Curtis says. He exhales, his expression carefully neutral as he feeds the string of lights down to Nicole. “I think that’s something we should talk about.”

“I know,” Nicole replies.

Curtis raises an eyebrow, perhaps shocked that Nicole hadn’t put up any resistance. The truth, however, was that since her conversation with Waverly in the woods, Nicole’s parents had trailed behind her like spectres. Now that she had opened the floodgates to this feeling that her failed relationship with them could never be resolved, it had niggled at her like a sharp pain at the base of her skull.

In all her life, her parents had never really given much of anything; they had mostly taken instead. Now it felt like they were taking all the closure for themselves too. Nicole couldn’t imagine either of them consumed with regret or sadness in the way she had been. They probably didn’t think about this at all.

Curtis waits patiently for Nicole to speak again.

“So I was thinking recently about how I’m probably never going to see them again. That maybe sounds super dramatic and final, but really it just seems so unlikely. They haven’t called once. They haven’t even texted me. I don’t have much other family back in Ottawa, and I’ve already decided I’m not applying for college there, which kind of sucks because they do have some really good courses. But I don’t think it would be a good place for me to tie myself to for years…” she trails off at this, looking to Curtis for some sort of confirmation that she had made a good call.

The Ontario Police College (as well as others) was, admittedly, pretty far from Ottawa itself but probably still close enough to be a temptation.

“I think that’s a very sensible, well-considered decision,” Curtis says gently, taking his cue perfectly. “But I also think you shouldn’t let your parents stop you from doing what you want.”

“I can do it elsewhere though,” Nicole points out, more to herself than to Curtis. “So they’re not really stopping me.”

“Okay. Well you still have a little time to make that call. And an application doesn’t mean you have to go there.”

“That’s true,” Nicole admits

"And has that been the main thing you’ve been thinking about regarding your parents?”

“No. It’s more focussed around the ‘maybe never seeing them again’ part.”

“And is seeing them something you want to do? Because if it is, it can probably be facilitated. Under supervision and somewhere away from your home - both of them - would be best, so it would be structured.”

This shocks Nicole into silence. She had never thought that would be an option. She would never have even asked. Carefully, she considers this.  _ Does _ she want to see her parents again? More than that, do they want to see her?

_ Probably not _ , she thinks scornfully.

“I think you’d have a hard job getting them to do that.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if  _ you _ wanted to see them.”

“I…don’t know,” Nicole admits eventually. Hadn’t that been her whole point before Christmas? That she wanted a shot at closure on her own terms? It feels almost absurd to say ‘no’ after all the fuss the impulse had caused. But there was a quiet, rebellious,  _ right _ part of her that already knew that what she actually wanted was her chance to be heard and to say all the things she wanted to. That same part of her knew already that she would not like the reaction she would be given should she have her shot and saying her piece; her parents wouldn’t care that she was hurting. 

“Tell me a bit more,” Curtis prompts as Nicole stands there in silence, probably looking strange and gormless as she thinks and thinks.

“I kind of can’t work out if what I want is to talk  _ with _ them, or to just say everything I need without needing a response from them. What I really want is for them to be sorry. Like, I don’t think it’ll ultimately create a bond or anything between us. I just wish they’d let me know that they see me, and they’re sorry. But, deep down, I know they’re not. And being told that they’re not, even now after I’ve been taken away, I think that would hurt more than anything else.”

“Okay,” Curtis says, just to show he is listening. Nicole already knows that he is.

“But then, that’s not great either. Because I’ll never really get to have  _ my _ say, purely because they’ll never be open with me. So yeah, I have this script in my head and if life went like  _ that _ , I’d want to see them. I’d want to say goodbye to my city and my old life in my way, without being dragged away before I was ready. No offence, obviously. You guys are amazing but I still didn’t get to leave on my own terms.” 

“No offence taken. I think we need that reminder sometimes.”

“What reminder?”

“That in helping people the system sometimes uproots them before they’re completely ready. And that this process can be difficult at best, and perhaps even traumatic at worst. We’re here to try and help with that part too, you know.”

For just a moment, Nicole imagines her situation in Curtis’ terms; an absurdly strange image of a little green plant being repotted before it has yet outgrown the old planter. Then there is new one; too big, too much, too soon. The plant stuffed right into the middle. An island. Too far away from any of the edges. 

But with the right conditions plants still grow and their roots spread out and they extend to fill the space they are offered. They flower when the spring rolls around.

“I know. But you can’t help me if I don’t know what I want to do.”

“Well we can work with you until you do. Why don’t you start with a letter?”

“What? To my parents?” Nicole cannot help the note of incredulity that bleeds into her voice, but she regrets it immediately. She had not meant to be rude.

Curtis, however, seems unperturbed. “It doesn’t have to be one you send. It doesn’t have to be one that anyone else ever reads. But it could be, if you read it back and you think your parents should see it. Or maybe you’ll write it and you’ll get your feelings out and that will be enough. Maybe you’ll write it and realise that there’s so much more to say than that, and you need to call your parents or even see them in person before you can move on. It’s just a starting point. Just a way to find out more about how you’re really feeling.”

Nicole pictures herself sat at the kitchen table writing to the parents she had never once felt she could be open and honest with. She wonders if it would feel absurd and stupid. She wonders if it would feel  _ good _ . 

_ Dear Mom and Dad, _

_ Sometimes I think I should hate you. Sometimes I wonder if I do _ _ . _

_ _

_ _

_ _

_ Dear Mom and Dad, _

_ I don’t. I definitely don’t hate you. _

_ _

_ _

_ _

Talking to her parents like this, in a way that finally gives her a chance to have her say, is hard. The fact that they cannot talk back, cannot shut the conversation down, is both a blessing and a curse, because it means that Nicole has to think – really, really think – about everything she wants to say. She feels stupid, writing a letter that her parents will probably never ever see. She feels that she would do just as well to draw a chair up to the McCready’s garden wall and say the things out loud to all that old stone and cement. This thought makes Nicole laugh aloud. That had  _ always  _ been what talking to her parents felt like.

She makes two initial attempts on the same page of her lined refill pad for school, before tearing the sheet out and crumpling it up. She takes a sip of the tea Waverly had made her a moment ago, aware of Nicole’s endeavour and under strict instructions from Curtis not to interrupt. Good as her word, she had simply made two cups of tea – one for Nicole, one for herself – and left the room with a gentle kiss to the top of Nicole’s head.

There are a further three false starts before Nicole really gets writing, before growing so engrossed that the tea grows cold in its mug.

_ Dear Mom and Dad _

_ I’ve spent pretty much my whole life wondering why you don’t care about me and why you always leave me alone in the house to look after myself. Since moving to Purgatory, I’ve spent pretty much my whole time here trying  _ ** _not_ ** _ to think about the fact that you haven’t called or written. I’ve asked myself a hundred times whether you know how much it hurts me and I’ve asked just as many times whether you care. In truth, I don’t think you can care, because parents who care about their kids don’t abandon them. They definitely don’t act like it’s nothing when those kids get sent thousands of miles away to live with strangers. But you did all that stuff and more. Even when you were here, you didn’t really interact with me or take an interest in school or anything like that. I know you always hated school yourselves and that you like to travel and hate your jobs and all of that stuff. I think that’s true for a lot of people. But I was just a kid. You shouldn’t have made me feel bad through the stuff that made you feel good. _

_ Curtis McCready said I should write this letter. He’s the guy who’s been looking after me. I live with him, his wife, and his two nieces. Alongside them, I’ve made two really good friends at school, and I play on the soccer and basketball teams. I’m going to class and I’m averaging As in everything. I’m applying to college, but probably not in Ontario. I don’t really know why I’m telling you this. I suppose I just want you to know that I’m doing well for myself, that I’ve managed it even though you didn’t care whether I did or didn’t get by. The people here are kind to me and they listen to what I’ve got to say, and they’re around when I need them to be. It still makes me sad that you never did that and I think I’ll always be a bit sad about it – but it’s stopped feeling so heavy now. I don’t want everything that happened in the past to define me. I don’t think you should get to have that. _

_ I wish there was another way to show you how badly this all messed with me. How it affected my health and my ability to see the good in myself. When your parents don’t care about you, it’s pretty natural to wonder what wrong you’ve done. But I know now that I didn’t do anything wrong. But you did. You could have chosen to do more, but you didn’t. _

_ The reason I’m writing (and maybe sending) this letter is because I got made to leave home, because I got told by lots of other people that I had no choice. It meant that I never got to tell you how your behaviour made me feel, and that really sucked because it made me really sad and really angry. It felt like  _ ** _I _ ** _ was being punished for you. It felt like you still had all the power. I still feel really let down by the choices you made, and it’s going to take a lot to ever really feel better about them. _

_ I just want to let you know that I don’t think I’m coming back to Ottawa. I don’t think it’s a good idea if we see each other, at least not for a while. I don’t think you’ll particularly care about that, but I want it to be my choice not to come back, not the option I have to take because you don’t want me. The courts instructed me to finish this school year here in Purgatory, and after that I’m going to go to college – probably somewhere here in Alberta. I like it here. I like the mountains and the open spaces. I think you’d probably like it too, and I would have liked to have seen it with you rather than under these circumstances. _

_ If you get this letter and actually read it and for some reason want to talk to me then, then that’s okay I guess. I can’t stop you anyway. But I don’t see myself writing, texting, or calling you in the future of my own accord. You'll have to make the effort. I wish it hadn’t ended this way, but it was your choice and not mine. I hope your life is good, and believe it or not I don’t hate you. _

_ Nicole _

_ P.S. If I do send this letter and you do somehow read until the end, and you for some reason reply, can you at least tell me how Luna is? I miss her. I hope she’s okay. I hope you didn’t get rid of her. For a long time, she was all I had to love.  _

  
  
  


“Will you read it? Both of you?”

Nicole’s hands aren’t perfectly steady as she holds out the lined piece of paper, perfectly folded two times over itself into a smaller rectangle. It twitches a little bit between her fingers, but she is unashamed to say that she is nervous.

Sat in his armchair, Curtis carefully puts his newspaper down on the coffee table. Almost perfectly in time, Gus sets aside a ball of wool and a crochet hook.

“It was never my intention that you had to show me what you wrote,” Curtis says gently. “This can be something private and just for you if you need it to be.”

“I know. But I do want you to read it, only if you want to though.”

Wordlessly, Curtis takes the paper and unfolds it. Nicole watches his face as he reads, but his expression is careful and neutral and it gives nothing at all away.

He reads slowly by what Nicole knows to be his usual standards, eventually coming to the end and shifting his grip on the paper so that it bends down of its own accord along the horizontal fold.

“I think that’s a very brave, very clear letter,” he says eventually. “And very well-written. You seem to be very good at that.”

“Not as good as Waverly,” Nicole replies, not to be self-deprecating but simply because it is true. Waverly is a fantastic writer, and it makes Nicole feel sort of proud and awed and amazed.

“Well, I’ll admit I’ve yet to personally meet too many people who surpass my niece in my eyes, but you do a fantastic job. Just as good in an entirely different way. You’ve got across your feelings, so far as I can tell, very well which is something I’ve noticed you’re very good at.”

Nicole nods and gives him a little smile. “Thanks.”

“Do you think you’re going to send it to your parents?”

Still standing, Nicole says, “I don’t know. Do you think I should?”

“I think,” Curtis begins before inhaling and visibly thinking for a moment, “…that as much as I always want to be able to offer you advice, this might be something only you can decide. I think it’s a very good letter and there is no reason not to send it if you want to.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nicole replies, nodding when Curtis indicates at Gus with the piece of paper, silently asking if he should pass it over for his wife to read. Nicole looks to Gus. “Yes, please.”

As Gus reads, Nicole continues to speak. “There’s actually, um, a couple of reasons I wanted you to read this. One, just because I wanted to share it with you. But two, because of something bad. Something that Waverly knows about and I know she won’t tell anyone, but it doesn’t feel right that she knows. It’s something bad about me.”

Gus and Curtis exchange a quick look before Gus’ eyes dart back to her place in the letter.

“Okay Nicole. Go on,” Curtis says evenly, gesturing that she should sit down.

She perches herself at the very edge of the couch cushion furthest from Gus.

“When I was told I was coming here, I made this plan with my best friend. It involved him coming to get me. It would have been soon. Like, next weekend soon. I didn’t want to be here and thought that once I was legally an adult I could just go back to what I knew. So we agreed that he’d come all this way in his car – super far, I know – and I’d just get on a bus to Calgary. And we’d go home. After living here with you all, I obviously decided I didn’t want that. I told him I didn’t want to go through with running away, but it was only like super, super recently that I made the call. I know it’s probably stupid to get myself into trouble willingly like this, but I feel like if I’m really going to turn the page on everything that’s happened, I also kinda have to tell you this.”

“How long has Waverly known?” Curtis asks when Nicole stops speaking, and she cannot say whether this is the first question she expected or not.

“Not very. A couple of weeks. She found out by accident and got really mad at me, but I explained everything to her, and I’m hoping you’ll let me explain it to you too. And that you won’t be too mad at me.”

“Well, I must admit I’m a little disappointed that you were still planning to run away so recently, but I’m willing to hear your explanation.”

“It’s kind of like I said in the letter. And like I said to you this morning. I got taken away and it wasn’t on my terms. And then my mom and dad never even called me while I was here. It’s just felt like I didn’t get to cut my ties on my own terms. I never got to really tell my side of the story to my parents and I just wanted to end it how I wanted, and to make them listen to me. But deep down I’ve always known that they’ll never listen. Like, never ever. I never even thought of something like a letter, which is really stupid but to be honest once they see my handwriting I’m pretty sure they won’t read it. When I made the plan with Dolls – that’s my friend – I was still back in Ottawa and I didn’t think I’d want to stay here. Now I know I don’t  _ really _ want to go back to my parents, but it was really hard to admit it was over and that I’d never made them care and I never would. It was like the part I couldn’t let go was the hope that I’d eventually make them come round. That was the only thing, I swear.”

“You’re having to let go, just like in this letter” Gus supplies and Nicole looks across to her, surprised that she had finished reading and listened so carefully to everything. “And it’s hard.”

Nicole nods, darting her gaze down to her knees as tears prick at her eyes.

“Yes, it is.”

“And you’re being very brave and honest about it with us now.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“And you decided not to run,” Curtis adds.

“I did. But I wanted to tell you anyway. It just felt weird, the two of you going along never knowing this huge thing. You had this idea of me as being so good and following so many of the rules and in a way I didn’t.”

Gus moves closer on the couch and pats at Nicole’s hand. “There’s no rule here about missing your home, Nicole.”

“I don’t, not really. And I don’t miss  _ them _ either,” she says, tone a little bitter as she jerks her head at the letter in Gus’ hand as if it were her parents in the flesh.

“There’s also no rule about missing the version of a family that you  _ wished  _ you could have had. Letting go of that is hard too.”

Nicole shrugs. “Well, that’s the four of you now. So it’s fine.”

Gus pulls Nicole into an odd, sideways hug right there on the couch. She and Curtis thank her for being honest with them, and for sharing her letter. They say all the things her parents should have said, and they do all the things her parents should have done. And it hurts and it soothes all at once.

In the end, Nicole sends the letter. She figures she might as well. She does so with no illusions of a response and, she tells herself, that any response her parents might give was likely to be totally unsatisfactory. But, at the very least, she might get some good news about her cat and that, she supposed, would be worth something.

  
  
  
  


The day after Nicole’s birthday, she and Waverly have to go back to school.

Much like Christmas, Nicole had held no expectations about her birthday, especially because it came so soon after the holidays. She didn’t expect the family to rally around and buy gifts – she still, in honesty, struggled to believe that she was so significant a part of the household – but rally around they did. Gus had made an enormous, Waverly-friendly chocolate cake and there were more gifts (new football boots, a basketball jersey) for her to unwrap. Waverly had gone all-out with a handmade, rather romantic card and an old school, but much appreciated, gift of a trio of framed photographs, each one featuring them smiling or laughing. It is the most thoughtful present Waverly could have given her, although Nicole jokes that it is technically a gift for both of them when it receives a privileged place in Waverly’s room. For a moment, Waverly looks genuinely worried until Nicole laughs, shoves at her playfully, and kisses the fear away.

The next day, however, the girls’ spirits are a little less bright as they drag themselves out of bed early and get ready for school. Waverly, Nicole knows, enjoys the learning and studying aspect at school, but is utterly terrible at facing the early start and cold morning air in order to get there. Nicole, on the other hand, likes her classes enough but knows they are, to a degree, a means to an end.

However, that morning on their first day back in class, neither of the girls is particularly enamoured with the prospect of going into school.

School means confronting the impending results of their winter finals; it means preparing for even more deadlines and examinations; it means finalising college applications. It also means much less time spent together and the Herculean effort of pretending that things were completely platonic between them. When, at the end of last semester, Nicole’s crush had felt somewhat hopeless, naïve, and unrequited, it had been easy not to worry about flying under the radar. There had, after all, genuinely been nothing going on between them. Now, however, there was always the worry and the risk that they might forget themselves or simply not be subtle enough. Nicole wondered whether Robin would catch on as he had with her crush, and what would happen if he did. She and Waverly have not spoken about telling Robin or Chrissy about the relationship, but Nicole thinks it would be a pretty decent stepping stone to maybe, eventually, plucking up the courage to tell Gus and Curtis.

There were, however, many other things to worry about too now that the holidays were at an end.

At rather the last minute, Waverly had decided to apply for History courses at nearby institutions but seemed likely to defer any courses for a year in order to save some money.

“Gus and Curtis have put some aside for me,” she had told Nicole one evening in the treehouse when they had discussed their futures in some depth, “but I’d really rather earn my own money too.”

She had put out some hints about being paid to work in Shorty’s. She was, after all, eighteen, and had been spending many afternoons and evenings there when she was not in school. Nicole privately agreed that she might as well get paid to be there, but Gus and Curtis had not seemed keen on the idea. To a degree, Nicole understood. She had seen the clientele in Shorty’s bar and she had heard how they spoke about women. It probably would be all the worse, if they were being served by one such charming, bubbly young woman, even one that they had seen grow up over the years. She would be concerned for Waverly about all of that, but did not see it as a valid reason, on Gus and Shorty’s parts, to disallow it. More than that, now that both Waverly and Nicole were eighteen, there was technically nothing that the McCreadys could do if they decided to get a job, even if neither of the girls intended on seriously disrespecting Gus and Curtis’ rules at any time, let alone while living under their roof.

“You two look as though someone’s kicked your puppy,” Gus observes during breakfast, sounding very amused. In an ill-fated attempt to rally the troops she adds, “come on! Everything from now will be a part of your last ever year in high school. You might as well make the most of it.”

“Yeah. Maybe tomorrow,” Waverly says, words almost inaudible beneath the weight of an almighty yawn. 

Gus just laughs to herself and tells them to get a move on so that they are not late.

Waverly and Nicole's schedule mostly diverges today, which feels pretty inconvenient for both of them. Even at lunch, Waverly has cheerleading practice and Nicole has basketball. During the last class of the day, Nicole feels her phone vibrate and quickly pulls it out of her pocket just enough to see the notifications. She has a message from Waverly, who has sent her a rather heavy-handed hint that she is in the bathrooms near the science block. Since they are equidistant between their two classrooms, it does not feel like a coincidence. 

It is not at all like Waverly to miss any of her classes but since they had started, well, whatever it was they were actually doing, an impish, playful side of her had made itself even more known to Nicole. It was perhaps one of Nicole's favourite discoveries so far about Waverly, although she does not doubt that there will be many more to come.

Still meeting up anywhere at school feels risky. Nicole is a little unsure, but ultimately aware that she is not about to turn Waverly down. She gets permission to go to the bathroom, and realises quickly that Waverly's choice had been a smart one. It is small and secluded, and there are only two cubicles, one of which is locked. The other is empty (Nicole checks) which means that, assuming Waverly has not yet left, they are completely alone. 

Nicole does not call out initially, still a little on edge about being caught.

Her patience is better than Waverly's, however, and eventually the lock clicks and Waverly appears as the door opens. 

"You didn't fancy saying 'hi' then?" she jokes. 

Nicole shrugs, playing it cool. "Might not have been you in there, and then we'd have been in trouble."

Waverly just raises her eyebrows pointedly and in response Nicole steps inside, crowding into Waverly's space and feeling instantly the way the air around them seems to change. 

"You know there's not even an hour of school left, right?" she points out with a smile, pitching her voice deliberately low and happy at the way it seems to leave Waverly a little flustered. 

She huffs. "And then fifteen minutes getting to the lockers and half an hour in the car. Then just barely five minutes while we change clothes."

Nicole chuckles to herself and leans in, ready to kiss away Waverly's mock-consternation. 

Before she can get much further, however, Waverly moves a hand between them and taps a finger against Nicole's lips. 

"But if you're  _ reall _ y not bothered," Waverly goes on, "you can just leave and go back to class."

Nicole laughs again, not all that interested in thinking of a witty response anymore. 

She simply pulls Waverly's hand away, finding that it moves without resistance, and presses their lips together softly, slowly. 

Waverly sighs and moves closer, seemingly always content to have Nicole's arms snug around her, keeping them both steady. Waverly on the other hand always seems to have her cool hands against Nicole's cheeks or neck, soft like a balm chilling the fever that seems to always radiate through Nicole at the thought of Waverly. 

Nicole pulls back for a moment, brushing their noses together. 

"Right decision?" she whispers.

Waverly laughs, the sound quiet but clear as a bell. 

"Right decision for sure."

"Good," Nicole murmurs before leaning back in. 

They both know that they cannot afford to stay here, both because it was a huge risk and because their teachers would notice if they were too much longer. They part far too soon, and somehow Nicole manages to get away with her protracted absence. She rarely leaves class for any reason, and it had been a few years since teachers had stopped asking certain people too many questions about sporadic disappearances to the bathroom. If the teacher or class think Nicole is on her period, then so be it. 

Across the classroom, Chrissy gets Nicole's attention and furrows her brow. She mouthes, ' _ you okay? _ ' and Nicole nods, working to keep a smile from her face. She doesn't want Chrissy - or anyone else - to worry unnecessarily, but on this occasion she knows that she won't feel too guilty. 

"I can't believe we did that before," Waverly says a little over an hour later, and it is hard to say whether she sounds pleased with herself or just plain shocked. Nicole is under no illusions as to what she is talking about.

Nicole has just wriggled into her sweatpants and throws her jeans deftly into the laundry hamper. She turns to find her old soccer shirt, which she had tossed further up her bed than intended. As she goes to pick it up, she notices Waverly watching her.

So, whatever she is feeling is not too dire. All the same, Nicole is still cautious when she asks, 

"Can't believe it in a good way or a bad way?" 

Waverly sits down heavily on her bed. She is already in her leggings and thick jumper. 

"I don't know. I mean I had fun but it was just…so risky, wasn't it? I think I was being a bit stupid and getting carried away." 

A closer look at Waverly's body language shows Nicole that she is, to some degree, anxious about what happened. Nicole knows enough by now about Waverly to realise that she holds onto some things others would let go of much more easily. She will laugh this off eventually but for the rest of the afternoon will probably feel guilty and out of sorts. 

"Okay, well, we just won't do it again," Nicole tells her gently, because they really don't have to go sneaking about school, even if it does suck that they've got absolutely no scope to act like the other couples in their grade. 

"Are you mad? It's not that I didn't like it or didn't want to at the time…" 

Nicole has to hold back a little burst of fond laugher. She is not amused by Waverly's reaction, not in any malicious way. But her sweetness and willingness to ask aloud such things are just endearing in a way that makes Nicole happy. 

Perhaps catching a little spark of something on Nicole's face, Waverly flashes her a wry expression and adds, "and yes, before you say it wise guy, I know I'm the one who suggested it."

Nicole does laugh this time, and goes to sit down next to Waverly. She realises as she moves that she has not yet put her tshirt on, and she quickly finishes dressing before continuing the conversation. 

Waverly pouts and looks as though she wants to make a joke, but wants to finish their other conversation more. 

"That's not something I'm ever gonna get mad over," Nicole says, wondering if this has something to do with the date with Champ. 

"Okay," Waverly says with a weak smile, but it is clear the conversation is not yet over. Nicole waits patiently until Waverly adds, "I guess I'm just wondering if you're gonna be upset if I don't ever feel ready to come out while we're still at school."

"I mean," Nicole begins, considering this for a moment. "I had kinda anticipated us just leaving things as they are. It does seem unnecessary to line up for all that crap just to leave school in a couple of months."

Waverly nods, very obviously thinking.

"I guess it just makes me feel like I'm not being very good to you. If you were a guy people would probably know already."

"If I were a guy we'd be able to hold hands in the lunch room without worrying about someone trying to punch me again," Nicole points out fairly. "It doesn't mean we agree with the status quo if we accept that we have no choice but to work within it."

Waverly still does not look convinced. "Maybe in a month or two… It's not that I'm not sure or that I wouldn't want people to know…" 

Nicole puts her hand over Waverly's on the comforter. 

Admittedly, it is pretty shitty not to be able to be open about all of this, and if Nicole was being totally frank she'd probably say that it would feel better in her mind if they did just act as they pleased around each other. But she also knows how hard this process is. Waverly is learning this stuff about herself right now, and she needs unconditional support while she feels vulnerable and anxious. Nicole gets it, even if she doesn't like it. But she also knows she won't be  _ entirely  _ helpful to Waverly if she does not mention that, from experience, baby steps are key. 

"You're allowed to take the time you need. I think, though, once you've had that time and, if you ever want to, we should tell Chrissy or Robin at some point, even if that's not any time soon. Robin actually worked out at the end of last year that I had a crush on you. But I'm not going to tell him more until you're ready."

In a now-familiar move, Waverly drops her head onto Nicole's shoulder. 

"Thank you."

"That's not something to thank me for."

"Well I still want to. Because you're saying that we'll go at my pace and not yours. So I think that it very much is something to say thank you for."

Nicole is used to putting herself behind others, and she'd been here already with Shae. With Waverly, however, there seemed to be more hope. Waverly already had Robin, and has seen Chrissy's enduring friendship with him. Her family had accepted Nicole when she came out. There was room for them to grow.

"Actually," Waverly goes on, "I think Chrissy has her suspicions too, but she'd never ask me. I think looking back now I talked about you so much, and in a way that wasn't really how you talk about friends."

"Is that part of what worries you?" Nicole asks, acting on a hunch. 

"How do you mean?" 

"That you haven't been as subtle in the past as you'd like because you weren't as aware of your feelings as you are now?" 

"When you put it like that," Waverly begins, sounding pensive. Then, she laughs and says bluntly, "yeah. Exactly that."

"Well, we'll just make sure we're extra subtle from now on, until you're ready to tell someone."

Waverly nods, head still against Nicole's shoulder. 

“Still. I’m going to talk with Chrissy soon, and you should tell Robin. I don’t want you to think I’m not talking about this because I’m not proud that you’re…”

Here, Waverly falters. They have not talked about this yet.

“I’m proud of what we are to each other. It’s just scary knowing what reactions we’ll get.”

Nicole hums a little sound to show she has heard. She doesn’t want Waverly to have to grapple with too much at once, so she decides that skirting the ‘girlfriends’ conversation for a little while longer won’t hurt too much.

“I don’t think you’re not proud, so don’t worry. Thanks for telling me though – things are better when we just say what we mean outright.”

“I agree.”

“Which is why I also think, at some point soon, we should talk about telling your aunt and uncle.”

At this, Waverly’s head shoots up and she looks incredulously at the side of Nicole’s face.

“You’re kidding, right? We’re not telling my family until after high school.”

“I thought you’d want to be upfront with them.”

“So that they’ll move you out the room and more closely monitor the time we spend together, just as they’d do with anyone else? I don’t want that.”

“Do you think so, really?” Nicole asks, voice going high as she finds herself feeling somewhat surprised.

“Oh yeah, a hundred percent.”

“What, because I’m…”

“No, definitely not  _ because _ you’re a girl. But I don’t think they’d go any easier on you because you are one.”

Waverly says this with authority, like she has experience of this, but she has never mentioned a boyfriend before so Nicole cannot be sure. But, then again, Nicole has not really mentioned Shae. It had just never felt relevant. It occurs to her just how much more knowing and learning they have to do with each other, and how that prospect is both exciting and daunting all at once.

More than that, it does not technically answer Nicole’s question, although she would have wanted to ask that too eventually. “That, uh, that wasn’t actually what I was going to say.”

Waverly first looks sheepish, then confused. “What, if not that?”

“Just that I’m…me?” Nicole says, struggling to explain herself. “Like, I know we’ve all established that Gus and Curtis like me but sometimes I just worry that it’s because your expectations would have been so low to begin with. I can’t shake that, still. I’m alright, but alright for a kid that got in trouble with the courts for skipping school. I’m not going back on all the stuff I’ve worked on with you guys but, let’s be real, even if they don’t  _ actually  _ see me like that, I’m sure your aunt and uncle didn’t imagine one of their own kids getting together with one of the kids they took in to straighten out.”

Nicole’s words settle between them for a second, both of them unable to resist a little snigger at Nicole’s accidental choice of words.

“My aunt and uncle really really love you,” Waverly says quietly and ever so seriously. The weight in each word makes Nicole’s heart flutter. “I think if they could ever choose someone for me, they’d want someone just like you. I don’t think they’re going to have a problem with you being a girl. Okay yeah, I think they’re going to be a little shocked that I like girls, but once that passes I think they’re actually going to be happy that you’re someone they already know and trust. But they  _ are _ going to monitor us if we tell them now, even if just because they’ll want us to focus on school and not distract ourselves. It’s your call too, but I want to enjoy this time with you while I can.”

Nicole privately thinks that it is not her call at all, because telling Gus and Curtis would mean outing Waverly to them which, as far as she is concerned, is not an option. She also, deep down, thinks that Waverly is wrong, just as she is wrong with the revenants thing. Gus and Curtis are perceptive enough to trust Nicole even after she admitted that she had planned to run away. Even if they do not know the real truth, they know that Nicole and Waverly are close and that they spend a lot of time outside of school talking and doing things together. She thinks that Gus and Curtis are wise enough to know that one additional nuance to the girls’ relationship probably isn’t, at this stage, going to see them jeopardising school. But, at the same time, Nicole knows she doesn’t know as much about the McCreadys as Waverly does, and there is clearly some past precedent for a boyfriend that Nicole doesn’t know about.

When Nicole does not reply for a while, Waverly backtracks a little. Sounding uncertain, she says, “I mean, if you’re really uncomfortable…”

“I am, a little,” Nicole admits. “But it’s not worse than you feeling that you have to come out before you’re ready. That’s not what I want. Can we just promise each other not to rule anything out? So that we can revisit it every so often. The summer’s a long way away – we don’t know what will happen between then and now.”

“Okay,” Waverly says, although she does not sound convinced.

A moment later and Gus’ voice breaks through a silence that descends between them. They both realise that they have been gone far too long, and so they hurry downstairs to sit at the table and start their work.

“I don’t know what you can possibly have had to talk about for so long after just one day apart,” Gus observes, completely oblivious to how close to the mark she is about what had been going on. “Your tea will be cold.”

“It’s fine,” Waverly says, sounding suspiciously flustered. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Gus says, looking between them. “I know you both know you need to put school first these next few months. I’m proud of how hard you both work.”

Waverly and Nicole exchange a look when Gus turns away, and it is hard to know whether Waverly is uncomfortable or simply conflicted. 

  
  
  
  


It is nearing midnight and they are lying together in Waverly’s bed.

It is not always entirely comfortable like this. There is not quite enough space and Nicole gets far too warm and has to wriggle free of the comforter and blankets halfway through the night. She would not, however, be without this routine now. She would not be without Waverly sleeping beside her.

After Christmas Day they have a discussion about their sleeping arrangements and set a plan into place. It is not that they came close to being caught during the holidays but that they were growing blasé.

So, instead, they were to be exceptionally careful about this. They make sure their clothes are on the right people and in the right places; they make sure that they are always in Waverly’s bed; they make sure they watch a movie (or at least put one on) so that if they are discovered they can claim that they had simply both passed out, dead tired, before the movie had finished.

That was, after all, something that had happened many times before things changed between them. Nicole has no doubt that on some nights going forwards, it will not even be a lie. Tonight, however, there had been kisses and touches and some fairly chaste exploring of skin. After they had agreed it was time to sleep, Waverly had buried herself close and Nicole had ignored how hot she got.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked yet,” Waverly murmurs apropos of nothing, voice heavy with sleep.

“Asked what?”

“About what I said about Gus and Curtis earlier.”

“That’s because you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want.” 

“It’s more whether you’ll want to hear it.”

Nicole cannot help chuckle, moving to run a hand gently through Waverly’s hair. “You’re allowed to have dated other people.”

“It’s just the one. About a year before you arrived here. He was alright – new in the area kind of like you. But not so nice as you when he found out about all my family crap. Which was just a bit of a bolt out of the blue because until that point he really had been pretty great.”

“And Curtis and Gus were strict about dating then, huh?”

“Yeah, probably far from the worst but still pretty regimented.”

“And you think it’d be the same even now that you’re older? Not trying to revisit our conversation or push you to tell them – just genuinely curious.”

“I mean, I obviously can’t say for sure. I sometimes wonder if they were trying to protect my feelings, knowing what people could be like about Wynonna and my parents. I guess they’d know you wouldn’t be hurtful about it. Honestly, I know they’ll trust you as a person. I still think they’re going to crack down on us if we tell them. No more stuff like this, I don’t reckon.”

As if to demonstrate what she means, she wriggles in bed slightly, body brushing up against Nicole’s. She lands a sweet, chaste kiss on Nicole’s shoulder.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

“I’d rather not, no.”

Nicole still cannot say it sits well with her to be dishonest to Gus and Curtis about this, but she will make it work for the timebeing.

A moment of hush passes before, in a very tiny, shy voice, Waverly asks, “what about you?”

“What about me what?” Nicole asks, genuinely unsure for a moment.

“Was there, y’know when you were back in Ottawa…and were there people who were strict about it?”

“ _ Oh,” _ Nicole says, realisation hitting. “Yeah. Just one proper girlfriend, not long before I left the city. She played on my soccer team- just to be that stereotype. She still does, I assume. We could never tell her parents because they weren’t accepting, and I never even bothered telling mine for reasons I assume are obvious.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks. We managed alright, we knew there were people – like the soccer team – who could know and wouldn’t get us in trouble. In the end it did get back to her mom and dad though, and she passed it off as a rumour. We’d always been super careful about her parents, so it was an easy lie to sell. She…she uh, broke up with me at that point though. I got it, I really did. But it was a bit of a shitty thing to experience.”

“I can imagine,” Waverly murmurs, although Nicole wonders if she can. They have both had bad experiences by the sound of it, but Nicole struggles to imagine the hurt Waverly would have felt if someone she cared about turned on her due to her family history. Waverly adds, “and now? You feel okay?”

“I mean,” Nicole says, her free hand slipping to Waverly’s hip and pinching gently in a playful little gesture. Waverly squirms. “I’d say I’m pretty happy, yeah.”

Waverly laughs. “You  _ know _ what I mean.”

Nicole knows, yes. But she also wants Waverly to know that she is loved.

Nicole is never going to feel any animosity towards Shae. She is always going to understand the choice she made. Moreso than that, after this time with Waverly, she knows that she and Shae weren’t in love. They would have made excellent friends though, so it does still suck that things played out as they did.

“We’d have been better friends, I do reflect on that sometimes. But I sort of mostly got over it without realising though. It was another level of crap to deal with around the time I wasn’t making it to school and was struggling without my parents’ money. But it wasn’t that long before I moved here. It was all just part of a bigger shitstorm, I guess. But then I met you, and I realised.”

“Realised what?”

“What it feels like when you find  _ it _ .”

She puts enough inflection in her voice that Waverly cannot fail to understand, but thinks her answer is suitably vague that Waverly can avoid delving into any deeper conversations if she wants. Being Waverly, however, she hits the space between the two options pretty accurately.

With her voice laden she says simply, “oh yeah, I know what you mean.”

That is all Nicole really needs right now. To know, and to be told, that Waverly feels the same way too.

  
  
  


As it always does, winter slowly fades. It seems to take an age, and it comes with a whole host of developments for both Waverly and Nicole. Eventually, they get their grades back, and are both pretty delighted when they do either as well, or better, than the grades they had been predicted. At around the same time, the first few university responses start to trickle through for the girls. In the end, they both restrict their applications to universities and colleges within the province, and Waverly even applies for a couple of online courses. Nicole gets some offers for some Criminal Justice courses based, it would seem, on her work experience with the Sheriff and her high Psychology grade. Waverly shocks no one by applying for a variety of History courses and getting accepted onto every one. 

The girls are given huge, genuine congratulations on both accounts - the grades and the university applications - by Gus and Curtis, who - much to Waverly and Nicole’s surprise - reward them with a set of bus tickets to Calgary. 

The tickets are already to hand on the day the grades are released, so the McCreadys must have bought the gifts already, and had not intended them to be contingent on the girls’ final grades but rather to serve as a reward for their hard work. They supply the girls with a little spending money so that they can enjoy some nice food or good movie tickets, but tell them that they will have to still do their farm work. 

Nicole begs a Saturday away from work with Chrissy’s dad, and the two girls drag themselves out of bed at a truly unpleasant hour, even in Nicole’s eyes, to finish working in the stables and with the little coop of hens early enough to get a full day in the city.

The treat might be a gift for good school work, but it is also symbolic, in Nicole’s eyes, of the McCreadys saying that they still trust her after what she admitted to them about her plan with Dolls. This symbolism seems even more apt when, on the day, there is some small amount of realisation that there is not actually all that much they can do, nor is there that much time to do it in. It is not like a proper vacation day but it feels that way, even if they do not have  _ that  _ much money to spend. 

It is fun to be truly unsupervised, and to explore the city together. When they are away from the bus stop (one of the few places that they are remotely likely to see anyone else from the Ghost River Triangle) Waverly surprises Nicole by grabbing at her hand, and wandering around like that as if it is the most normal thing in the world for them both. 

They mostly just drift about together, looking for the kinds of little haunts that don’t exist in Purgatory - cute little cafes and artsy second hand stores - and stay out as long as they can without missing the bus back. Gus and Curtis impose a pretty lax curfew, instead insisting they get the odd message from Waverly to let them know that things are going well. 

When the day is over, Curtis is ready to pick them up again at the bus stop, and that sort of regularity and predictability and just all-round commitment to family life is starting to become Nicole’s norm too. The feeling of stability is starting to seep into Nicole’s bones, and the happiness that comes from this sense of safety seems to permeate every part of her life. Perhaps it makes her complacent too, because when Waverly and Nicole arrive home to more mail, she expects information about universities and more glossy fliers that try to catch her attention. These are present, yes, but there is another letter too. One she had almost forgotten to expect. One she is not really sure she actually wanted to receive anymore. 

She looks up and catches Gus and Curtis watching her carefully. They must have seen it when they sorted through the mail. They must understand too. 

“What do you need?” Gus enquires softly.

“What’s going on?” Waverly asks.

“I don’t know,” Nicole says in response to Gus, rather than to Waverly. 

Because really, every time it feels like she has found some peace, her parents absolutely know how to shatter it. She sets the envelope carefully down on the kitchen table.

“I really, really don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I would love to hear from you here or on twitter @rositabustiiios.
> 
> Have a lovely week and take care, especially in all those storms.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks, sorry this one's a few hours late. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

_ Dear Nicole, _

_ I admit, I was surprised to receive your letter. I had assumed that, with things ending the way that they did, you would never want to hear from us again. That’s why I never called or wrote. I thought it would be easier for you to forget us that way. I hadn’t thought it would hurt you. _

_ I have tried to write this response very many times and it never turns out quite right. With a little time I see that we expected too much of you, and in particular we expected you to grow up too fast. I have no shame in admitting that I never expected to have a child, and I never learned how to care for one. The people you live with sound like people who know what you need and are in a position to offer that to you. I never really found myself in that position, did I? _

_ If I am being perfectly honest, I don’t really know what else to say. I think I have left it far too late to fight for you, and I think that anything I do say will sound hollow and untrue to you. But please know that, should you ever return to Ottawa, then I would like to listen to what you have to say in person. For the timebeing, perhaps the one thing I  _ _ do _ _ know as a parent is that you’re in the right place to become the strong woman you were always meant to be. _

_ Luna is still in the house with us. A new family moved in next door and they feed her when we go away, so you don’t have to worry that she is ever left entirely by herself. Even so, I think that if your new family could keep her on the farm until you move out, and if your next place allows it, she should be yours. She sleeps in your old room without fail and very clearly misses you as much as you miss her. I am not sure of the logistics but if you are, arrange them, and I will settle the money from here. _

_ I was never very good at loving you, but in my own head there was no question that I did, and still do. _

_ From, _

_ Mom _

Nicole reads the letter five or six times before she really lets herself analyse it. Then, in the days that follow, she reads it so many times that, in certain places where she grips the paper, the pen starts to fade away. She thinks it a very fitting representation of her relationship with her mom. She also thinks that her dad’s complete absence from the response is equally representative of her relationship with him.

In the past, when she had tried to force her parents to listen and to change, it was always her mom who tried to reason with her. That was not to say that her mom understood, because she did not. She would give Nicole a whole list of reasons why she shouldn’t upset herself and would never, ever seem to really register Nicole’s existence. All the same, however, she heard Nicole’s words (even when she did not listen) and she seemed to tacitly and perhaps unconsciously acknowledge that Nicole was upset and, in some cases, had a right to be. By comparison, her father was the one to completely dismiss Nicole without a second thought. Nothing was his fault, but Nicole could always be given the blame for everything, no matter how obvious it was to the whole family that she was not culpable for her parents’ neglect. It doesn’t really surprise Nicole that he would have dismissed her letter, and she would stake all of her earnings from the police station that he didn’t even know that her mom had written back.

Nicole is not about pat her mom on the back for doing so, and her response was probably just as hurtful as her silence had been, but it was validating to know that she had actually tried.

She thinks that her mom probably said more with the words she didn’t write, than with the ones she did. She barely admits culpability, she skirts around telling Nicole that she loves her, and she never once says sorry. What she does mention – never planning a child, having no idea what to do, and still going on trips even now – paints her as the victim, albeit her mom probably does this unconsciously.

The only things that ring true to Nicole are that her mom doesn’t know what to say, and that she believes that anything she does say will sound hollow. In fact, Nicole actually believes her mother’s sincerity in the part of the letter where she says that she has left things too late, and anything she tries to say now will sound untrue.

For a day or two, the complete lack of enthusiasm in her mom’s letter drives Nicole into a quiet, sad mood which means that she mostly wants to be left alone by everyone – even Waverly, although she tries not to show it.

She goes back to running before school or work, a habit she had let die down due to the weather and the dark mornings, even though it would probably have been more advisable to wait. She works a few extra hours at the municipal centre when she can, citing the need for money but, in reality, for once craving the quiet solitude of the ‘not too confidential’ police paperwork she has been authorised to work with.

As a helpful addition to her work (and her attempts to avoid talking about her mom’s letter at home), Chrissy’s dad offers to give her a few unofficial driving lessons, because getting her licence would be mandatory at one point or another. She had started learning to drive back in Ottawa, so she already had a valid learner’s permit. All the same, with her parents’ sporadic appearances at home and the associated financial issues their disappearances caused, Nicole had not been able to make driving lessons a regular thing. She was pretty sure she could pass the tests already, but a bit of extra practice would never be a bad idea.

Chrissy’s dad must know that there’s something going on, because Nicole is far less engaged and inquisitive than usual, but he has the good grace not to say anything (or, as Nicole suspects, he does not know what to say to begin with).

Given that Curtis and Gus concede to Waverly’s demands to start working at Shorty’s (“but not every evening and weekend – you need to study”), Nicole finds the frequency of her Friday nights at the bar cut in half. She could, of course, sit and study there while Waverly works, but it felt more logical for Nicole to get her hours in at the station at the same time, so she is driven to the bar after school with Waverly, but makes the short walk to her own place of work instead. Before she had even sat down that afternoon, however, the Sheriff had appeared and said,

“C’mon. You’ve been sat behind a desk all week. You need to get outside.”

Nicole does not bother to point out that she takes at least a couple of Phys Ed classes and plays more than one soccer match per week, because the most recent batch of paperwork she has been given is exceptionally boring, and not really that insightful or useful for her own development. She had wanted some time alone, but perhaps not badly enough to care about the documents she was forced to read through. 

They don’t use the police cruiser when the Sheriff wants her to drive, and he gives her the set of keys to his own car as they leave the building. Nicole knows that it is unlikely they’d get the insurance for her to use a federal vehicle, but she also sort of suspects that the Sheriff hasn’t insured her to drive his car either.

She does not ask the question, however, and simply drives as per his directions. There is usually very little going on in and around Purgatory that requires a full stake out (or at least, not that Nicole knows of), but general patrols seem to be fairly common. She wonders if it is just the Sheriff’s way of getting out of the office and clearing his head sometimes.

“Have you been going driving with Curtis?” he asks, after they have been out for a while.

“Yeah,” Nicole says, watching the road.

“And?”

“He thinks I should take the test soon.”

“That’s good. So do I.”

“He said there’s a waiting list.”

“There is, so I think you should book at the start of next week.”

Nicole nods and hums. The Sheriff doesn’t say any more and they patrol needlessly around the area for an hour or two, until he instructs her to drive back.

“If you don’t mind I’m going to call into my house on the way. I need to pick something up. You can pop in if you like, say hi to Chrissy.”

Nicole privately thinks that Chrissy almost certainly would not want her calling in without warning, but she can hardly refuse and stay in the car, so she follows the Sheriff up the drive and into his and Chrissy’s little house right on the very edge of the town.

Chrissy’s dad calls ahead and announces Nicole’s arrival too, so Nicole sees when Chrissy’s head pops up from couch, where she must have been sprawled out and not visible from the doorway. The house smells pleasantly of whatever Chrissy had eaten for dinner, and is warm and dimly lit. It feels homey.

“Hey,” Chrissy says, sounding remarkably unperturbed that Nicole is there. “Sit down if you want. Dad always forgets everything, so he’ll probably be a few minutes gathering up all his stuff.”

Nicole smiles and sits on an armchair, only somewhat at ease because she had been in Chrissy’s house at New Year’s and once since, and had slept over both times. She still felt like a formal houseguest however, so doesn’t recline back in the chair or get too settled. The remnants of pizza and what appears to be garlic bread sit on a plate on the coffee table.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks, flipping through the channels on the TV and turning the volume down slightly.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah, pretty good. How’s working with my dad?” Chrissy asks this in a way that suggests she is not expecting a diplomatic answer.

Nicole grins. Perhaps surprisingly, they do not talk about Nicole’s job with the Sheriff very often.

“I mean, it’s Purgatory so…”

Chrissy barks out a laugh. “So fuck all happens?”

“Pretty much. Still, it’s a good job for my applications, and it was nice of your dad to help me out.”

“He has his moments,” Chrissy says with a shrug, but it is obvious she is joking. Nicole knows that Chrissy and her dad are close; they always have been by all accounts, but it was even more the case when Chrissy’s mom died. Nicole wonders if the reason she, Chrissy, Waverly, and Robin get on so well is that they all know what it’s like to have it tough when it comes to family. Affinity can’t hurt, surely?

After a moment in which neither of them speaks, Chrissy asks again, “you sure you’re okay? Like not just today okay but generally? You’ve seemed a bit down. Waves is worried about you, I think.”

Nicole glances from the TV to Chrissy, unable to hide her surprise. Waverly has said nothing of the sort to Nicole herself.

“She is?”

“I mean, she won’t say it obviously, but she’s being…” Chrissy pauses, choosing her words carefully. “She’s being  _ Waverly  _ about it, you know? Constantly asking if I think you seem okay or do you look unhappy to me. And I mean…I guess? Kinda?”

She studies Nicole carefully for a moment, clearly gauging her reaction to see if she has overstepped a line. She both has and hasn’t, Nicole thinks.

“It’s nothing, honestly.”

“That’s what people say when there’s something, not nothing.”

“I got a letter from my mom the other day – the first time I’ve heard from here since I got here – and it kind of sent me off course a bit,” Nicole says. “I haven’t wanted to talk about it at home for a bunch of reasons. Plus, it’s a stupid reaction to have.”

“How so?” Chrissy asks, wrinkling her brow.

“Well,  _ I _ wrote to my parents.  _ I  _ mailed the letter. Okay, I didn’t actually expect anything back, but I opened up the possibility so I don’t know why I’m so shocked about it now.”

“Did she say anything good?”

“I mean, they haven’t given my cat up for adoption so…” Nicole says, mostly being sarcastic.

Chrissy chuckles, allowing Nicole her moment of deflection before saying, “I can’t pretend to know what this all feels like. That’s not a dig or a comment about my mom by the way. My dad has always been a great dad, and mom was great too, so I just mean that that’s my experience of parents. But I know someone who’s had a different experience...”

Chrissy says this pointedly, waiting for Nicole to supply the answer but when, out of stubbornness, she says nothing, Chrissy goes on.

“ _ Waverly _ . And Wynonna too, now I think of it. And I know they’ve told you.”

“I know, I just haven’t wanted to talk about it.”

All the same, she hadn’t wanted to worry Waverly or anyone else either. It had been two weeks since the letter, and she wouldn’t let anyone talk about it. She hadn’t been sullen or cold with anyone – at least, she didn’t think she had – but she hadn’t exactly shared the contents of the letter, or really let anyone see her sadness either. She feels bad all of a sudden, worrying if Waverly had felt pushed away.

“That’s fair,” Chrissy says, and it is obvious that she means it. “And you don’t have to, of course.”

“But you think I should?”

“I mean, if the whole processing it yourself thing isn’t working out then change tack, right? Something doesn’t go right, change your methodology.”

Nicole pulls an expression intended to convey that Chrissy has a good point.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Nicole says, ensuring that she sounds honest and not dismissive. Then, to change the subject she adds, “I didn’t mean to upset Waves.”

“Oh I don’t think you did,” Chrissy replies quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. She just cares about you. A lot.”

When Chrissy says this, she uses a tone that makes Nicole’s skin prickle. 

There has always been a fear in Nicole’s mind that Chrissy will feel left out or cast aside by Nicole’s presence in Waverly’s life. She had worried that Chrissy might feel like she had lost her best friend. Thus far, however, Chrissy hasn’t seemed to mind at all, so her comment probably had not been a sarcastic one. This is both a relief and very much a concern, because it really only left one other interpretation of her loaded tone. 

The thing is, Nicole thinks, she and Waverly have been careful. They have been so, so careful. Even Robin hasn’t said anything. Surely no one can know? Surely Chrissy cannot know.

“She cares about you and Robin too. She’s very caring,” Nicole says feebly, knowing all too well that she has not hit the mark with her response.

Chrissy smiles. Then, she completely changes the topic, and thoroughly confuses Nicole in the process. 

“Has Waves ever told you about the time that Champ locked me into a Porta-Potty and thought it was the best joke ever?”

Nicole nods. “She has, yeah. They were assholes even that long ago.”

“Yeah, they were. And did Waverly tell you that she basically beat them to the ground for me?”

Nicole nods again.

“Well I’d do anything for her, just like she did that for me. She’s my best friend,” Chrissy pauses and then smiles bashfully to herself. “No offence.”

Nicole laughs out loud. “Seriously, it’s fine. None taken.”

“So,” Chrissy goes on with a shrug, smile fading into an expression that is more pensive and contemplative. “What’s good with Waves is good with me.”

Nicole nods, understanding completely what Chrissy is trying to say. She cannot, however, say much in response.

Chrissy seems to understand Nicole’s silence because she adds, “and you’re welcome to pass that on, yeah? If you think it’s a good idea.”

Nicole smiles. “It is a good idea. And I will.”

“Cool, good,” Chrissy says brightly. “And make sure you sort out what’s got you feeling crap too, yeah?”

“I will.”

“Good, because I need my friends fighting fit.”

Nicole smiles again. Chrissy really is a great friend to have.

  
  
  
  


The next morning, Nicole runs.

It is still far too cold and the snow is still really too deep and treacherous for this to be an entirely risk-free endeavour, but it is better than getting stuck in her own head. Moving helps; it has always helped. Admittedly it cannot make the thoughts go away, but it helps to put them into perspective as just another part of her, not something bigger than the breath in her lungs or the prickle of sweat at the back of her neck. The problems eventually become something she can conquer, just as she can conquer the strain in her legs and the burn in her throat that try to tell her, wrongly, that she cannot run further or faster than the time before.

She runs well and, eventually, when the time before the dawn has dwindled and the sky is a somewhat lighter shade of indigo, fewer specks of starlight highlighted upon it like chalk on a blackboard, she stops by the back door. Instead of going inside, however, she waits until her temperature drops a little, and opens the door enough to reach in and pick up the coat and gloves she had left earlier.

She puts them on and sits on the doorstep, jamming a beanie on her head as an afterthought and ignoring the way that her leggings are not quite thick enough to keep out as much cold as she would like. She cannot stay here long, but she just wants another moment or two to herself.

She had not spoken to Waverly last night about her visit to Chrissy’s house, but rather decided to sleep on how exactly to broach the conversation.

Just when she thinks she has a little more time to consider it all – at least until after work on the farm and then lunch with the family – she hears a noise behind her and the back door starts to open. Nicole makes as if to move out the way, but Waverly, slim and lithe as she is, appears in the gap and squeezes rather elegantly through.

“You’re going to be cold,” Nicole chides gently, not wanting Waverly to think she is being dismissed, but equally not wanting her to freeze out here on Nicole’s behalf.

After all, it is obvious why she is here.

“I’ll live,” Waverly replies briskly, but it is clear that this is a front. Already she has paled and, on instinct, she wraps her arms around herself and rubs her hands against her forearms as she sits down next to Nicole. She is in her coat and already dressed in old, farm work clothes, so that is, at least, a small mercy. All the same, Nicole immediately puts her arm around Waverly’s shoulders and pulls her in tight.

“What are you doing up so early?” Nicole murmurs although, of course, she thinks she already knows. She presses a kiss to Waverly’s cheek, simply because she can. 

“Woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.” 

Waverly’s answers seem perfunctory but Nicole can read her well enough by now to know that she is probably pensive and, honestly, a tiny bit sleepy. Almost as if to confirm this theory, she nestles closer to Nicole, head against her, squeezing between the corner of her jaw and her shoulder. 

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” Waverly murmurs, breath pleasantly warm on Nicole’s neck. “I woke up and you were already gone. But I was worried about you being out here.” 

Nicole knows that this is not what Waverly was  _ really _ worried about. 

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” 

Waverly says this firmly, and even more so than before, it is obvious they are not talking about Nicole taking a run in the dark and the snow. 

“I...think I kind of am,” Nicole says, letting the camouflage slip off their conversation. 

“But you haven’t been.” 

“I’m honestly not sure. I’ve felt weird, it’s been hard putting it all into words, or even getting it all in order in my own head.” 

“I know,” Waverly replies gently, no hint of bitterness in her voice. All the same, Nicole winces and finds herself apologising to Waverly.

She does not have to see Waverly’s face to know that she is confused. “Why are you sorry?” she asks. 

“Because I thought I was doing a better job at hiding it. I thought I wasn’t worrying anyone, but I know now that I was.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was out with the Sheriff on patrol last night. He had to call into home and told me I should go say hi to Chrissy. We talked and she checked in with me too. Said you were both worried about me.”

This is not strictly true, but Nicole thinks it might come across a little poorly to say that Chrissy had told her about Waverly’s recent anxieties. 

“Yeah, I have been,” Waverly admits. “And honestly, you kind of  _ have _ hidden it. You’ve been here with me, haven’t isolated yourself outside of running and work. But you’re kind of not here.” At this, Waverly reaches one of her hands up and taps the side of Nicole’s beanie, rather obviously referring to the forehead beneath the fabric. 

“I didn’t mean to be distant, I’m sorry.” 

“This isn’t about me, but do you uh,” Waverly begins, then pauses, voice sounding small and a little nervous. “Do you feel like you can’t talk to me about stuff? Because if there’s something I’ve done that’s made you feel that...if there’s something I should do to show you can trust me…”

“Waverly,  _ no _ , not at all,” Nicole says, voice rushed in her hurry to get the words out, feeling stricken at the idea of Waverly worrying both about Nicole herself, and about the possibility that Nicole does not trust her.

“It’s just...I’m your…I want you to talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole repeats, tightening her grip around Waverly’s shoulders, pulling her closer. Waverly slips her arms around Nicole’s waist. “I really thought I was doing okay at working through my stuff, I didn’t know I was making you feel like that.”

“You haven’t, not really. It’s been me working myself up too, wondering if I haven’t done something I should have.”

“Honestly, I haven’t really known what I’d say, even if it had crossed my mind to say it. I’m sure it’s obvious it was my mom’s letter that messed with my head. Because yeah, dad didn’t even sign his name to it, let alone write anything.”

Nicole realises for the first time, how little she has told  _ anyone _ about her mom’s note. Suddenly, it feels incredibly obtuse to have kept it to herself. 

She feels Waverly grow tense before trying somehow to bury herself further into Nicole’s side. They cannot possibly get any closer, but Nicole appreciates the attempt to show her comfort very much.

“I’m so sorry Nicole. He should have done something, at least. And what about what your mom wrote? Was it awful?”

“Not awful, no. It was just a totally lukewarm, mostly unbothered reply to what I’d told her, and it  _ sucked _ . But I invited that possibility, and I’m not even  _ that _ surprised it all played out this way. I mean, honestly, I’m not going to give her credit for doing almost nothing, but at least she  _ did _ write I guess. That’s kind of the risk I took. It was always possible they’d still have the last say.”

“Not if you have it,” Waverly points out thoughtfully. 

“Not to be super negative or dismissive, but I really, really don’t want to write to them again.”

“Not like that though, just to yourself. You can have the last say on what your mom’s note is gonna mean for you.”

Nicole nods. “Yeah, I know you’re right it’s just…”

“Hard,” Waverly supplies knowingly. “I get it.” 

“I know you do. And I really am sorry that I sort of drifted these past weeks. I didn’t mean to. I’m just used to taking on a problem and having to work it out myself, especially where my parents are concerned.” 

“I know,” Waverly murmurs and to her credit she does not sound hurt or angry or frustrated. She just  _ knows _ . It makes Nicole’s heart flutter because she thinks that, a few weeks or months ago, both of them would have been different in this situation.

Admittedly, Nicole still would have tried to tackle a problem on her own, but it would have been a defensive manoeuvre rather than an unconscious accident. Waverly would have had trouble with being shut out, in a way that was much more serious and much more concerning than the issues she had voiced just now. Neither of them would really have known how to broach this matter well, and it would have been hard to bridge the divide.

Now, however, there was no real divide to bridge. To a degree, that might have been because of how their relationship had changed, but it was also undoubtedly a result of them having  _ grown _ . Even in a few short months they have grown up and grown closer and grown as individuals and  _ grown together _ . 

It was pretty special, Nicole decides, to cast your roots and watch someone else cast their own right beside you. It was pretty special to watch them bloom and blossom, making the best of the sunshine but also the dirt and the mud and the rain. 

Neither of them is perfect, neither expects perfection from the other (or from themselves) now. But Waverly is getting better at calling Nicole on her bullshit, the kind of bullshit that means she still forgets (genuinely, truthfully forgets) that she doesn’t have to isolate herself to deal with problems anymore, particularly the parental-shaped ones. 

“You don’t have to, you know,” Waverly says eventually, after a silence so long that Nicole forgets, for a moment, what discussion had precipitated the comment. Perhaps feeling the same, Waverly adds, “you don’t have to deal with your problems alone, even if you’re used to it.”

“I know, it’s just something I’ve sort of gotten  _ so _ used to, that I forget that there’s actually alternatives, even when those alternatives are right in front of me. I didn’t mean to push you away.”

“You didn’t, seriously. You’ve been amazing still. You’ve listened to every stupid thing I’ve told you about my history project stressing me out, and you’ve always been around, and you’ve still be so  _ nice _ to everyone. It’s just been something I - we - could tell, that something’s been weighing you down. And it just sucks to know you’re in pain and not letting us help you.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to let you - ”

“No, okay, sorry - yeah, that wasn’t the right word. I just...you have us now. You, well, you have me. And I know I’m not always the best at stuff like this because sometimes I bottle up my problems too, and I don’t know if I ever  _ really _ say or do the right thing for anyone, and I probably just rattle on too much about something and never really come to any good conclusions but - ”

“Waves, stop,” Nicole says gently, laughing to herself a little. “Trust me, you’re  _ perfect _ . You look out for people and I  _ know _ I can talk to you. I know how stupid it is that I still just try and take on everything by myself, but it’s my thing to get better at. I mean, I hope it’s kinda obvious that when I’m not being too dense to talk about stuff, that I’m always more than happy talking about it with you.” 

“Yeah,” Waverly agrees. “Like right now. I know deep down that you - that  _ we _ \- can just do this, what we’re doing now I mean. I know that. I do.”

Waverly sounds more like she is trying to convince herself than Nicole.

“We can,” Nicole says, soothing. Silently, she wills Waverly to believe it. 

“I just...don’t want to bother you if you don’t want to talk, that’s all.”

“You never bother me Waves.”

“I know that. I do,” Waverly repeats those same words like a prayer, as if begging herself to believe them. 

Nicole takes stock a little, putting herself in Waverly’s shoes. 

She knows, either from direct information or from inference, that Waverly has always felt left out of stuff. During one of their late night conversations after Christmas, Waverly had said that she had always felt like the odd one out back when her elder sister was alive. Wynonna had not, Waverly declared, intended it to be that way, but the oldest Earp sisters were close as they grew up, while Waverly was just young enough to be the annoying little kid sister. Willa had, apparently, not liked Waverly at all (probably, Nicole suspects, on account of their father’s behaviour towards Waverly) and while Wynonna – who very obviously adores Waverly – had tried to mitigate the effects, it sounded by all accounts as though Waverly was pretty horribly bullied by Willa.

In addition, she had always been shut out of the friendship Willa and Wynonna had, and then only kept on the periphery of Stephanie’s group of friends. Clearly, the same could be said for her father who it seemed always held her at arm’s length. It all seemed to have bred an earnest sort of anxiety in Waverly that she was going to be left behind. That she had to say yes, to people-please, to fit herself into neat boxes, to be included. That respect and companionship was contingent on her making herself what others wanted most. That love could be held on a string and might be taken away at any moment.

Nicole hated it. She hated what people had done to Waverly, probably just as much as Waverly hated what Nicole’s parents had done to her.

As they sit and try not to think about the cold stone of the step and the way the melted snow and ice tries to seep through their clothes, the sky slowly grows lighter and lighter.

There is no visible sunrise, it is too cold and gloomy for anything quite so grand, but the indigo of the night fades to blue to a murky paint water sort of a colour, to a dull, uninspiring grey.

It is fine though, all that washed out colour – or lack thereof. All of that pale nothing around them – the sky, the snow, the lack of plant life – just makes Waverly shine all the brighter in Nicole’s arms.

_ This is it _ , a little voice tells in Nicole’s head says, all sudden and unbidden and unexpected.  _ Ask her. Do it now. _

But, Nicole’s conscious voice reasons, it was supposed to be romantic. She had thought about getting a little bunch of flowers and trying to find an excuse to go out alone with Waverly, use her work money to buy them a nice meal somewhere.

_ But then again _ , that treacherous voice counters,  _ isn’t this romantic enough? _

The light bleeds in more, bringing an end to the reign of the darkness for another of the earth’s rotations. Light out of darkness as Waverly had been for Nicole. Light to bring the mountains back into view; light that is reliable and steadfast, and always a given even if, at this time of year, you just have to wait a little longer for it to turn up. The kind of pale light that is honest; that does not give the world any space to hide. The kind of piercing, unforgiving light that shows up all the impurities in the world and still, Nicole thinks as she glances down at the girl in her arms, not a single one to be found in Waverly Earp.

“Waves?” Nicole whispers, feeling her heart start to hammer.

“Mm?” Waverly sounds distant, far off somehow, and anyone who did not know better might wonder if she had fallen asleep out there in soup-thick dawn. Nicole, however, knows it is far too cold for that.

“I wanted to this a bit differently, but well, I know we’re basically there. But I want to ask you something anyway, to do it properly…”

“Okay,” Waverly says, voice loaded as if she is perfectly aware of where this is heading, as if she can read Nicole’s mind. Probably, she can.

“Will you be my girlfriend? Like I say, I know we basically are girlfriends. And I wanted to get you flowers and do something special, but this just feels…”

“Right?” Waverly supplies, not sounding totally sure she has picked the right word, but certainly sure enough.

“Exactly.”

“It is,” Waverly agrees, then seems to forget she has a question to answer.

Nicole leaves it a heartbeat, then two, then three, then ten. She counts to twenty. She wonders if Waverly is considering the question, wonders if she is trying to find a lifeline and a way out. Eventually, she cannot wait it out. She has to ask.

“Waverly…”

“Yeah?”

“There was sort of a thing I asked you just now…”

“Oh!” Waverly exclaims, breaking away and briefly covering her face with her hands. She takes them away again a moment or two later, smoothly moving to grab at Nicole’s cheeks and pull her in for a kiss. It seems risky; anyone could be up now that it is light. On balance, however, it is unlikely that they could be seen unless someone was standing right at the backdoor.

“Yes,” Waverly says when they break away, and she smiling,  _ beaming _ , like she is so light she could float up the clouds. “Yes I’ll be your girlfriend. Of course.”

Just like that, the word is said. Just like that, it is even more real that before.

Waverly kisses her again and then they sit together as they had before, staring out at the mountains, both of them smiling, both of them freezing; both of them more in love than they have ever been. 

  
  
  
  


It is only after they both go inside, that Nicole remembers the other part of her conversation with Chrissy. She waits until they are done mucking out the horses – they cannot really talk about it in front of Wynonna – and they have eaten lunch with the family, before speaking about it.

At first, it looks a little as though Waverly is going to spiral, still clearly very anxious about the whole school finding out about their relationship and trying to raze it to the ground. But after a moment in which Nicole reminds her that Chrissy is  _ her best friend _ and explains three times over that Chrissy had very heavily hinted that she was happy for them, it seems to sink in that it is all okay.

Waverly seems surprised that Nicole still has not told Robin, but Nicole had not been able to bring herself to do so until Waverly was  _ totally _ ready.

“I honestly thought he was just being subtle,” Waverly admits, but Nicole privately thinks that Robin’s reaction will be anything but understated when she finally tells him. He had seemed so certain that Waverly would reciprocate her feelings, and it had seemed to him at the end of last year like a foregone conclusion. Or, at least, that was the impression he gave. Nicole cannot help but think that he is going to be pretty excited, and decides it is actually probably best if Chrissy gets the news just slightly ahead of him.

“Maybe I should talk to her,” Waverly says, pretending to casually muse aloud to herself and doing an absolutely unconvincing job all round.

Since she is obviously seeking some kind of encouragement, Nicole says, “I think it would be a good idea.”

“I kind of want to text her, but I should call, shouldn’t I?”

“Go hang out,” Nicole suggests with a shrug. “It’s been forever since it was just the two of you.”

“But…” Waverly starts, now rather unaccustomed to an arrangement that didn’t involve at least Nicole, but usually Nicole and Robin joining them on any outings around school hours.

“I have loads of homework, and I’m not going to take offence at the two of you hanging out, trust me.”

“You’re sure?” Waverly asks, checking Nicole’s face very carefully.

Nicole crosses the space between their beds and kisses Waverly on the forehead.

“I’m sure. And yes, I’m sure that I’m sure.”

Then, before Waverly can argue further, she strides out of the room to the bathroom. When she returns, she catches the tail end of a phone conversation in which Waverly says “…actually I was thinking just us. We haven’t done that in a while.” There is a pause as she listens and then adds, “yeah, she’s totally fine with it. Actually, she suggested it. She pointed out we – like, you and me – haven’t hung out for a while. Okay, yeah. I’ll pick you up in like an hour.”

They bank pretty heavily on Gus and Curtis allowing Waverly to go out, but she has already had time to do most of her homework this week, whereas Nicole’s time has been eaten by soccer and then by work.

“I’m not going,” she interjects when, after hearing Waverly’s request to go and meet Chrissy, Gus looks immediately to Nicole and opens her mouth as if to cast doubt upon the idea. “Too much homework. Plus I’m always gatecrashing their best friend time.”

“You’re not – ” Waverly begins, before catching the playful, wry look on Nicole’s face and sticking her tongue out instead of finishing her sentence.

Gus agrees to Waverly going out, but still looks a little perplexed at the idea of Chrissy and Waverly meeting up without Nicole.

_ Is that _ , Nicole wonders,  _ really the truth of things now? Is that how subsumed into life here I’ve become? _

The idea alone makes her happy, not dimmed even when she drops an enormous stack of books onto the coffee table in the living room as Waverly gets her keys and prepares to go out.

“Will you be done before dinnertime do you think?” Waverly asks as she laces her boots up.

“Probably,” Nicole says. “It’s not  _ quite _ as bad as it looks.”

“We could come get you, if you’d like. And Robin too? Have an evening together? I’m not working tonight.”

She asks this of Nicole and they both, on instinct, glance to Gus, who nods. “Fine by me. I know I can trust the four of you.”

“Well, make sure you guys get to hang out properly first if you want. I don’t mind if you’d rather just have some time for the two of you.”

“No, we’ll come get you. Can you message Robin, tell him a rough time, then let me know?”

Nicole nods. “Yeah, will do.”

Glancing to Gus, who appears to be doing something complicated with her current crochet project and seems to be trying to keep count of, well,  _ something _ , Nicole turns back to Waverly. She mouthes  _ good luck _ and surreptitiously blows her a kiss.

Waverly grins, mouthing  _ thank you _ and blowing one back.

It is probably pretty sickening, and Nicole kind of loves it.

All the same, Waverly looks pretty nervous when she leaves, and Nicole prays that Chrissy will have the right words at the ready. She is a good friend, and very obviously okay with the idea of Waverly and Nicole dating, so Nicole does not feel particularly worried. She only wishes she could send some of that serenity over to Waverly.

Instead, she sends a message to Robin, who accepts the offer to meet up and says that his dad is apparently for once capable of driving – Robin’s precise words – and can drop him at the McCready homestead on his way into town.  _ Probably he’s going to Shorty’s and won’t know his own name by the eight,  _ Robin writes,  _ but he might as well do something useful and save Waverly an extra journey if she’s the one driving _ .

Nicole spends the rest of the afternoon working, and then eventually takes her mom’s letter to show Gus and Curtis. They have not probed too much about it, and they have not demanded to see it.

This had somewhat surprised Nicole, as it was pretty much two weeks to the day that she had received the letter. She had expected that Gus and Curtis would want to see it, but instead they had given her the space she wanted, without her even asking for it.

Curtis reads the letter while Gus watches Nicole carefully, each of them sat around the kitchen table and sipping from steaming mugs.

“What?” Nicole asks Gus softly, gently, so as to be clear that she is curious and not defensive. Gus smiles and she cannot help but smile back. It is strange when another person observes you and you cannot parse out why. It is stranger still when it does not feel completely unnerving.

“Glad to have you back,” Gus says cryptically, because, of course, Nicole has not been anywhere in the literal sense. She has, however, checked out recently, even if only in certain ways.

Gus is smiling over her coffee cup, and does not seem remotely angry at Nicole’s distance for the past couple of weeks.

“I didn’t mean to go anywhere.”

“No matter, we knew you’d return.”

In saying this, Gus says as much with the words she chooses not to use, but which seem somehow inherent to her sentence. Nicole thinks she stops short of saying “this time” in case the implication is taken badly or is seen as somehow sarcastic or unfair. For Nicole, however, it seems to be emblematic of the new trust they all have in each other.

At this moment, Curtis puts the letter down. He takes off his reading glasses – grudgingly used since a recent trip to the optician – and looks over at Nicole.

“This letter,” he begins slowly, “I can’t imagine it has done, but did it give you any of the closure you needed?”

“Not really,” Nicole answers without a beat of hesitation, tone sarcastic because, really, who could have taken any kind of closure or comfort from her mom’s words? She knows that Curtis knows this, though, so it makes the question pretty much okay. 

“I think I’d feel the same way,” he admits. “But I also think it tells you that your words were read. It might not mean that your parents took them in, but you got to say what you wanted to say.”

“It also tells me that it’s definitely over,” Nicole says, and she cannot tell for sure how this makes her feel. “But at least now I know for sure, I guess. No more wondering.”

“No more wondering,” Curtis echoes in agreement. “Or perhaps, a little less wondering. It’s okay if you still wonder what might have been if your parents had been different.”

Nicole realises something there and then. “I don’t.”

“No one would blame you.”

“Yeah but I don’t have to wonder, do I?” Nicole points out, experiencing her realisation aloud and in real time.

“I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“Well, it’s this, isn’t it?” Nicole says as though it is plainly obvious. She gestures widely at the table, indicating mostly at the three of them sat around it. “If they’d been good parents, then this is what would have been. And it’s what it is now. So yeah. Screw her, and screw  _ him _ most of all.”

Nicole decides it is time to well and truly say  _ good riddance _ to all of this. It is over and finally,  _ finally _ , that is starting to feel like something that’s okay.

“Maybe not the word– ” Curtis begins, before visibly catching sight of Gus’ face. Her expression isn’t dangerous, just pointed, and it seems to say  _ let her have this _ . Curtis grins at his wife. “Yes. Screw them.”

“I’ve got you now, right?” Nicole says, the words mostly a statement but also kind of a question.

“You most certainly do,” Gus replies, forceful in the way she always is.

Unintentionally, they all sip from their mugs in perfect synchronisation. Nicole almost bursts out laughing. She has become so like the McCreadys in so many ways.

“Do you have anything else from this week that you’d like to chat about?” Curtis asks after he swallows his coffee.

Nicole considers for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Only that the Sheriff thinks I should schedule a driving exam soon.”

Curtis smiles. “Okay, we’ll call up on Monday and get you booked in for your knowledge test. Then I’ll make sure the two of us go out on the road again soon.”

“What about insurance? Should I give you money for it?”

Curtis shakes his head, his expression firm. “Absolutely not. We can more than manage on the assistance we receive.”

“But you shouldn’t have…”

“We pay for Waverly,” Gus says, as though that settles the matter and it takes Nicole a moment to realise what that  _ really _ means. Before she can say anything more, however, Gus drains her cup and collects Nicole’s empty one, before standing saying, “now, go get yourself ready for when Robin gets here. You deserve some time with your friends.” She then turns to Curtis and adds, “love, can you to look into animal transportation for me? We must know someone, even if a cat is a bit smaller than cattle or horses…”

Nicole is already halfway out the door when Gus says this, speaking as though it is an obvious course of action. Nicole hadn’t even asked. She has already taken – no,  _ received _ – so much from this family, desperate as she was to see Luna, she would never think to ask for more.

She spins around, looking back into the room at Gus and Curtis, her face probably a perfect picture of shock.

“But – ”

“Didn’t I tell you to go get ready?” Gus says, but she is smiling and sounds spirited rather than dismissive.

“It’s going to be expensive. And I might be going to college soon – ”

“Didn’t we just say we can more than manage on what we have?” Gus points out, still smiling. She elects to ignore the point about college altogether.

“But it’s such a long way, so difficult to organise…”

“Do you want us to do this?” Curtis asks.

“I mean, obviously in one sense yes, but it’s so much, you do too much for me.”

“If we do it, it means it’s exactly enough,” Gus counters. “If we couldn’t do it, or didn’t want to do it, then we wouldn’t, now would we?”

Nicole opens her mouth, and then realises it is futile to argue. Her chest feels tight and her heart feels fit to burst, and tears clog at the back of her throat. She swallows them back and silently vows that, for the rest of her life and theirs, she will pay Gus and Curtis McCready back for every good thing they have given her. Whether the payment is literal or just in kindness and good deeds, she will do it. She will get to college and get a good police job, and she will pay them back. She will take care of Waverly, give her the world and more, and she will show the McCreadys just how much she loves them all.

She is also reminded that it is not only McCreadys under this roof who deserve their good deeds paid back when Wynonna walks in a moment later. They have not seen much of each other since Christmas, because Wynonna is working more hours than ever – which seems suspicious and somewhat out of character – and Nicole has sort of been wrapped up in Waverly, and in her own low mood, for a while now. She feels kind of bad about it, but also knows that Wynonna would laugh in her face if she said that out loud.

“What’s going on here?” Wynonna asks, picking up on the mood straight away. She passes Nicole in the doorway, drifts to the fridge, opens it, looks inside, and closes it again without removing a single thing.

“We’re going to see if we can get Nicole’s family pet out here with us. Her mother has said it would be a possibility and we think it’ll be a good idea.”

“For the record, I think it’s too much to organise and pay for,” Nicole points out.

Gus sighs and pretends to be put out, wagging a mock-stern finger at Nicole from across the room and beginning to parody a chastisement.

“Now just you leave that to your u – ” the slip seems to surprise everyone in the room, no one more so than Nicole. She exchanges a look with Wynonna as, smooth as butter Gus corrects herself. “To Curtis and I. We’ll sort it.”

If it had not been so quiet in the room, it was likely the slip might have passed them all by entirely but it is still incredibly telling that Gus has become so accustomed to Nicole, that she had started talking to her exactly as she talks to Waverly and Wynonna.

Nicole knows that they do not think of her in precisely the same way as they do the Earps. It is fitting that they don’t, and it would also probably be slightly strange to reconcile that with her relationship with Waverly otherwise. All the same, the McCreadys seem now to treat Nicole exactly as they treat their nieces and there has perhaps never been a better illustration. 

“What’s the pet?” Wynonna asks eventually, and it would be easy for most people to dismiss her contributions to most interactions as brash and poorly thought through. She does, however, have a perfect knack for diffusing conversations, and a complete willingness to appear tactless and flippant as a result.

For her own part, Nicole is happy to move the moment along. “She’s a cat.”

Wynonna gives a dramatic groan, which causes Gus to huff.

“Wynonna please, you are  _ not _ allergic to cats. It will actually be very useful to have one around here. We get rats sneaking into the coop and hurting the chicks, but they might not if they smell a cat.”

“Luna won’t know what to do with all this space and all these other animals.”

Ignoring Nicole, Wynonna says, “all well and good, but I  _ am _ allergic to cats.”

“Mildly, at best,” Gus retorts. “You had a cold the last time, I’m certain of it. And a hangover.”

“My throat was closing up,” Wynonna protests. “I could feel it.”

“I’ll keep her with me at all times when she’s indoors,” Nicole says innocently.

“Good, that means I won’t be able to come near you again.”

“ _ Wynonna _ .”

Nicole flashes Wynonna her best, most angelic smile before saying, “yes, that was the intention.”

_ “Nicole _ .”

Both of them take this as the cue to get out of the kitchen, jostling each other and trading insults the entire way up the stairs. 

  
  
  
  


“So I’ve actually got something to tell you,” Nicole begins, both she and Robin sat on the floor of Waverly’s bedroom, waiting to hear the truck pulling up outside.

“No, wait, don’t say it, let me guess,” Robin exclaims, managing to pull a perfectly shocked expression. “You’re gay?”

Nicole reaches behind her and blindly grasps at one of Waverly’s numerous scatter cushions, hurling it forcefully at Robin.

“You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m not  _ wrong _ ,” Robin points out, catching the pillow as gravity pulls it downwards from face-level (where it had thwacked him sharply on the nose), to his lap. He wraps his arms around it, still grinning and looking far too satisfied with his little joke.

“No, you’re not wrong,” Nicole says, before deliberately letting a silence descend between them. Robin watches her expectantly, before raising his eyebrows and saying,

“Well? Come on then. What have you got to tell me?”

Nicole makes a great show of studying her nails and looking completely disaffected.

She pitches her voice high, feigning nonchalance and haughty disdain.  “No, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

“ _ Nicole _ .”

Robin lobs the cushion back at her, but without any real force. She catches it and drops it back on Waverly’s bed.

Prior to Robin’s arrival, Waverly had texted her to say that she had spoken with Chrissy, who had been completely supportive and wonderful, apparently. Waverly had felt that Nicole should be the one to tell Robin since the two of them were close, and that it might be fairest if he too found out today.

Nicole had agreed, but also felt that she had really drawn the better end of the deal, since Robin knew that she was lesbian, and knew about her crush, and knew too about all the intricacies and subtleties that came with parsing out an LGBT identity. She doesn’t feel remotely nervous about telling him, although having a spotlight on her – even in a good way – and making big announcements had never really come naturally to her.

She wants to string this out longer, but also really wants to share the news with Robin. She lets a dopey, daft smile break through her mask of disinterest.

“It’s about Waverly and me.”

Just those five words alone are enough, and Robin’s reaction is golden, just as Nicole had predicted. He goes through every stage of overdramatic but genuine shock, mouth open in an  _ O  _ of surprise, and big gasp coming from right from his chest.

“ _ No _ ,” he says, pausing carefully and then adding, “ _ way _ .”

Nicole cannot help but laugh, just because she is so happy.

“Are you serious?” Robin asks, his expression slipping into a wide smile. “Are you…”

“We’re dating, yeah. But it goes without saying that this  _ has _ to be a secret. I know you understand.”

“Of course,” Robin says quickly, growing serious for just long enough to show Nicole that he gets it. Then, the demeanour falls away and he says, “but I need more than that. How long? How did it happen,” then, “ _ yes _ , I knew you two were gonna get together.”

Nicole raises her eyebrows. “I mean, I didn’t have a clue for sure about Waves until it was happening, so you must be psychic.”

“Oh ye of little faith. It’s been obvious for a while that Waverly was into you.”

Again, Nicole’s eyebrows climb.

“I’m serious,” Robin protests, before pulling a face and amending his statement somewhat. “Although, not obvious to you because you were too close to the situation, and probably not obvious to anyone who’s straight and discounts any remote hint of same-gender attraction.”

“So literally only obvious to you then?”

“I mean…”

“So not at all obvious?”

“I don’t want to hear your smartass comments Nicole, I want to hear all the disgusting cheesy details, so spill.”

By the time Waverly and Chrissy arrive at the house, Nicole has given Robin an abridged version of her first kiss with Waverly – mainly it is the story involving Dolls that she cuts down.

( _ “Perfect _ ,” Robin interjects at one point, “your classic ‘I don’t want to lose you’ conflict to resolution. We love that.” He is enjoying this. Far too much.)

Without revealing private details about herself and Waverly, she gives him a further rundown of how things have progressed since then.

(“You mean you were together at New Year’s and  _ I didn’t know _ ?!”)

She ends by telling him that they are official and exclusive, but that she suspects that Waverly is still struggling somewhat to reconcile her identity with, well, Purgatory. It is odd to have someone to  _ really _ talk about this with, but if anyone can understand what Waverly is feeling it is Robin. 

“Do you think she’d want me to talk about it with her?” he asks carefully, finally calming down and ceasing his deliberately hyperbolic impression of a one-man fan club of Nicole’s new relationship.

“I mean, I don’t think she’d  _ not _ want that.”

“Has she been saying much about it all? Not prying for the details, just wondering generally.”

“More than I expected, honestly. And she says she’s mostly at ease and I think she means it. I don’t know how solid those foundations  _ are _ exactly, but I think what she’s telling me is genuinely how she feels.”

“That’s good, then,” Robin says, and Nicole nods. “But hopefully you guys don’t have to test the foundations at all. Sorry it’s all so secretive though, it must suck.”

“It does and it doesn’t. It sucks on my self-righteous ‘I want to fight for rights’ level, but it’s also mostly okay. I don’t think taking on a joint crusade to educate the population of the Ghost River Triangle is a smart endeavour – ”

“Minimal chance of success.”

“Exactly. And I know what people will be like about it. I do want to shield Waverly from that if I can, as patronising as that probably sounds. I’d rather just see out high school like this than have to struggle against a whole tide of homophobia for the sake of like, four or five months.”

Robin nods solemnly. “Very smart call. But still. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“And I’m also glad for the happy parts of all this.”

“Thank you, seriously.”

“And I’m also sorry for the truly tragic fact that I’m still single and have  _ zero _ chance of finding my ‘Waverly’ out here any time soon.”

“You’re looking for a ‘Waverly’ now?” Nicole teases, “that’s a sudden and unexpected change.”

Robin pulls a deliberately stony expression. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. And honestly, you never know. If I came from the city to the actual ass-end of nowhere and met someone, literally anything is possible.”

“Nope, that’s some real white whale type situation.”

“Well, college is round the corner. You can go full  _ Love, Simon _ soon enough. With the dance and everything.”

“I truly cannot stand being around you sometimes.” 

Nicole slaps him on the knee playfully, and makes to stand up. “Well,” she says, tone businesslike, buckle up, because I think I’ve just heard Waverly pull up, and you’ve got a whole night of my delightful company to go.”

Robin groans, but does not hesitate to get up and follow Nicole downstairs.

  
  
  


Curtis and Gus, who had missed Robin’s arrival, seem delighted when he appears downstairs, and greet him warmly, alongside insisting that Nicole go outside and ask Chrissy in for a moment or two. 

Naturally, this leads to the two visitors being kept in conversation for far longer than intended, although neither seems to mind. Gus and Curtis, understandably, have a bit of a reputation for being pretty cool and nice to talk to, as far as interacting with parents and guardians goes. 

It is obvious that both Chrissy and Robin feel at ease talking through school and college applications with the McCreadys, although Gus and Curtis already have the rundown from Waverly and Nicole.

The four of them do eventually manage to extricate themselves, however, and after some aimless driving and indecisive chatter, eventually decide to head to the movie theatre. There is nothing worth watching currently showing, but it has a pretty decent pizza place attached to it, and even an old, ailing sort of arcade and bowling alley which is falling into disrepair by grace of the fact that no one ever uses it. 

Waverly drives with Chrissy sat up in shotgun and therefore on music duty, while Nicole and Robin pile into the back, Robin behind the driver’s seat.

This formation means that it is fairly easy for Robin and Chrissy to catch each other’s eye, even in the unlit interior of the truck. They exchange a few looks, mostly just poorly-concealed glee and a little surprise.

“You two think you’re cute, but you’re not,” Nicole announces eventually, smiling when both Robin and Chrissy jump and look a little sheepish. 

Waverly glances at Nicole in the main mirror, eyes illuminated occasionally when they pass a weak yellow streetlight. 

She looks confused, but Nicole shakes her head, genuinely bemused by the loaded - but not awkward - silence behind the music playing from the stereo, and the way Chrissy and Robin are talking without any words at all. 

“Oh  _ please _ ,” Chrissy protests, “let me be happy for my friends for two seconds.” 

Nicole cannot help but smile. In fact, she does not stop smiling all evening. She sits beside Waverly at the pizza place, opposite Chrissy and Robin who have a perfect double act that can always make her laugh. They tell stupid jokes as Waverly holds Nicole’s hand under the table. 

For the first time in a long time, or perhaps for the first time ever, Nicole feels like a completely normal teenager and it feels amazing. 

It feels like flying, and knowing that nothing in the world can possibly bring her crashing down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's all for another week.
> 
> I'm not sure about you guys, but it's felt a bit like it's all slowed down the last couple of chapters, and I'm not sure I've done the best job moving the story along. However, the next couple of additions should hopefully change that. I can't promise no angst, so we'll just have see where it goes. 
> 
> As ever, your kind and wonderful comments mean the absolute world to me. If you have a moment, I'd really appreciate hearing from you either below or on twitter @rositabustiiios.
> 
> Until next week, take care.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I'm so sorry these updates are coming later and later these days.
> 
> I've been super busy juggling all sorts of different things, but want to make sure I always get the chapters posted on a Monday. 
> 
> I really hope you're still enjoying this story. And, well, I'm sorry for the ending of this chapter.

Winter bleeds into spring as it so often does, that is to say, with very little fanfare at all. 

Life goes on in a mundane routine and, for the first time in Nicole’s life, that isn’t a totally terrible thing. 

She works and she goes to school and she plays soccer, and that is all quite alright with her. 

As the thaw comes, gradually everyone’s schedules grow busier again. Nicole’s soccer schedule ramps up now that they can get outside to play, and since all the sports start up again, Waverly’s duties as head cheerleader increase in a corresponding fashion.

Outside of school, the farm grows busy. It is not particularly livestock heavy, but the few cows and sheep present follow their own habitual routine, which means time for lambs and calves. Luna the cat, who had arrived in late February, still did not really know what to make of all of these other four-legged creatures, much less the onslaught of inquisitive miniature versions. She seemed to think it strange that there were so many other animals around, and Nicole remained convinced that she thought of them all as oddly-shaped, rather inept cats. 

Nicole had been delighted to reunite with her pet, and Luna had taken well to her new family members. Waverly had, in an exceptionally endearing series of events, seemed to take it as a personal challenge to earn the cat’s approval as quickly as possible, as though she placed a lot of stock in the cat’s opinion. 

The only person who had maintained a cool indifference around the cat was Wynonna, who still claimed allergies but had not displayed evidence of a sniffle or a sneeze since the cat arrived. 

Initially, Gus and Curtis had set down the ground rule that Luna was to not to sleep in the girls’ room, but after less than a week of Wynonna grumbling every time she found the cat napping in her favourite armchair (Nicole liked to think Luna had done this on purpose), Gus had permitted Luna to sleep in Waverly’s bedroom simply in order to stop Wynonna’s protestations. 

By the end of March, Luna was a fully fledged adoptee of the McCready family - giving Nicole yet more affinity with the little silvery cat - and had effectively wormed her way into Gus and Curtis’ affections. Despite living on a farm (or perhaps because of it), they were both rather closed off to the idea of animals taking up residence indoors, but Luna was difficult not to love. She was affectionate, hapless, and extremely good-natured, and had won Curtis over the first moment she had crept onto his lap one evening after dinner and fallen asleep, happily purring away. Gus took a little longer, but was eventually to be caught slipping the cat pieces of chicken at dinnertime, claiming that, much like Nicole, she needed a bit of strengthening up if she was to thrive out here in the bracing mountain air. 

Perhaps best of all for the smallest member of the family, was the plush luxury she received every evening when she took over Waverly’s bed and curled up right in the centre, perfectly content and probably hilariously comfortable, when compared to the two girls’ attempts to make enough space in Nicole’s tiny twin bed. 

Still, they were no closer to telling Gus and Curtis the truth, but aside from that things were going well between them. Nicole had held some misgivings about trying to set out a relationship whilst literally living in each other’s pockets, but they had both done a pretty good job at setting some boundaries - even if this was probably mostly done unconsciously. At their busiest moments, they did not actually get to spend much time together, and any time they did steal was usually spent studying in relative silence. 

On one week in early April, the most they see of each other is when Waverly and the rest of the team lead the cheers for one of Nicole’s soccer matches, and they see each other from across the pitch for two solid hours. 

After the game, when the team wins and Nicole manages to snag a hattrick, Waverly dives across the field to give Nicole a big hug and it is so easy to almost, almost kiss her. 

They have been careful but careless at the same time, never crossing any obvious boundaries at school, but surely much, much more to each other than the impression they tried to give off. Nicole wonders how it is not visible on her skin like a brand, the love she has for Waverly Earp and the reciprocity that lifts her spirits every day. 

Gus, Curtis, and even Wynonna had come to watch Nicole play, and after both she and Waverly have changed out of their kits, they all drive to the diner for burgers and soda. It feels so perfectly twee and normal, and Nicole sometimes has to remind herself that she and Waverly are harbouring this secret. 

They are, in fact, harbouring two, because since Christmas, Waverly’s research into revenants and the supernatural had seemed to amp up. She had found a reference to a criminal killed by Wyatt Earp that had given her pause. A history textbook had featured a picture but no name of a man whose face seemed to claw at the edges of Waverly’s memory. By her own admission, the connection was so hazy that she could not be certain that she was not simply making things up, but Nicole knew Waverly by now, and she knew her instincts. She had never singled out one of Wyatt’s outlaws before, so this seemed to be noteworthy. _ Wynonna would know, _ Waverly had remarked later that day when they were both in bed, trying desperately to get some sleep, _ but I can’t ask her _. 

Still, from Nicole’s perceptions, Waverly’s attachment to her research seemed to be reasonable and well-regulated, but she did worry about her girlfriend’s wellbeing whenever she spent a long afternoon with her books. She always came away contemplative and lost to Nicole, seeming skittish as though she had been preoccupied by the secret she was keeping from her family. This, rather than the relationship, seemed to eat away at Waverly the most, which gave Nicole a good indication of which secret Waverly thought her family would receive better. 

Waverly’s only objection to being open with Gus and Curtis remained the risk of separation and closer observation of their interactions. Nicole supposed that, of all the reasons to keep their relationship a secret at home, this was the best of a bad bunch. Waverly still seemed to slip exceptionally easy into the relationship, and it felt nice to see her come into her own as she was. It _ was _, Nicole conceded, nice to be able to see through the first phases of a relationship with Waverly on their own terms, and without the pressure of undue scrutiny from the people they lived with. 

Plus, Nicole reasoned on more than one occasion, she absolutely could not bear a red-faced conversation with either Gus or Curtis about safe sex or the suchlike. Not when it was their niece they’d be referring to. 

At first, it would have been a moot point, but as time went by it became something Waverly skirted past in conversation more and more. For her own part, Nicole had resolved not to mention it at all. It wasn’t exactly an option, for a lot of reasons. Even if it felt like something they were ready for, it wasn’t like they would have opportunity. It felt like one boundary too many to cross whilst under Gus and Curtis’ roof, and Nicole didn’t want to be _ completely _ disrespectful with their love and their trust. 

That was, however, easier said than done when the person determined on pulling Nicole apart thread by torturous thread was Waverly Earp. 

“Don’t you want to?” Waverly whispers innocently one night when Nicole tries to slow the pace - and trajectory - of her hands. 

Nicole snorts. Waverly _ knows _ what she does to her. 

“Not here,” she murmurs, although she reasonably knows that Waverly is no more likely to initiate, well, _ that _ in this bedroom than is Nicole herself. “Not right now. Not while everyone’s in.”

More than that, Nicole knows that Waverly is full of a bravado that cannot quite cover her nerves. Sometimes, her hands shake a little against Nicole’s skin, and it is more than just a sign of passion or excitement. Nicole has not brought it up - just made it clear to Waverly that there’s no pressure or need to worry here beneath their sheets. 

Waverly huffs quietly. “Then it’ll be never.” 

She is right. There are always people here. They have nowhere else to go. 

They fall back into physicality a moment later, Waverly’s lips on Nicole’s throat, but something has unsettled slightly. 

“You okay?” Nicole murmurs, hands gentle in Waverly’s hair, fingertips dragging along her scalp lightly, asking permission to slow things down for a moment.

“Yeah,” Waverly whispers, before pausing and adding, “you _ do _ want to though, right? With me, I mean. I know you’re the first...you’re my first girlfr- but you _ do _ want to at some point?” 

Nicole chews over her answer for as long as she can without making Waverly nervous. _ Of course _ she feels that way about her girlfriend. But she worries that saying ‘yes’ too emphatically might make Waverly think she is impatient. She thinks of Champ’s insistence, and of Waverly’s propensity to do whatever it is she thinks will gain others’ approval.

“Of course I do Waves,” Nicole whispers, “but this isn’t a sprint. It’s not like I’m counting off the days until then. I’m happy like this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very much so.”

“Because I’ve, uh, I’ve been worried.”

This makes Nicole’s stomach twist. She had not expected Waverly to say that. She knew there had been nerves and jitters, but she didn’t think it was any real symptom of insecurity.

“You have?” 

“Yeah. Just that we maybe haven’t, well, gone there yet.”

“Have I done anything to make you feel that way? Worried, I mean?”

“No, not really. You’re just always so careful, and I know that’s because we’re trying not to get caught, and also because you’re still not totally okay that Gus and Curtis don’t know. But you know what I’m like when I get an idea in my head. I just want to check.” 

“It’s definitely not that I don’t want you like that. I just want that when you do.”

“I - I do. I think. Well, I know. But I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about it being good enough. About uh, you know. Me. Being good enough.” 

“You _ are _,” Nicole insists, meaning it emphatically, and kissing the top of Waverly’s forehead. “You are, you are, you are.” 

“I sometimes think about how much Champ wanted me to…”

“I’m not Champ, Waves.” Nicole cannot help but wonder if she has done something, even unintentionally, to bring all this on. 

This makes Waverly laugh. “That I know. And sorry. I’m not trying to draw any comparisons. I just want to be enough, I want to make you happy.”

“You already do, so please, don’t think on doing anything more or less than we are now.”

“But…”

“Waves, seriously. I’ll be happy forever knowing that we’re both at ease with each other. Anything we do that isn’t something you’re totally at ease with isn’t gonna make me happy at all. Don’t put any pressure on yourself to make me happy. I’m happy being with you. I’m happy because you’re my girlfriend.” 

Nicole says this with a note of finality, not to shut the conversation down but to try and convince Waverly that things are just fine - more than fine - as they are. 

Waverly, however, is like a dog with a bone in the best and worst of ways, and still she presses. 

“Did you, when you were with your ex-girlfriend?”

“We did, yeah.” 

Nicole knows that this is probably not what Waverly wants to hear, because in her mind it probably sets a precedent or speaks to Nicole’s expectations when, in reality, it does no such thing. 

“I just feel like I’m gonna have no idea what I’m doing, and that in reality I’m _ so _past the point of being able to fall back on ‘I have no idea what I’m doing’.”

Nicole cannot help but chuckle. “I’m going to be falling back on that line for the rest of my life, probably in a lot of contexts.”

Waverly laughs too. “That’s cute, but I’ve literally never met anyone as competent as you. You repaired my _ truck _ the other day.”

“Hey, I’d literally just read one of the manuals for the theory test thing, and I had Google and YouTube on my side.”

“I’ve been driving for like a year, and I could barely even lift the hood up.” 

“I mean, it is quite a tall truck.”

Waverly hits Nicole on the arm. “That is _ so _ mean.” 

She is still laughing, however, and Nicole cannot help but say, “got you smiling, though.”

“Yeah, well, you always do that.” 

“Promise I’ll always try to.” 

“Thanks,” Waverly says sweetly, kissing Nicole on the cheek. “But in seriousness though, I don’t want you to feel let down when I’m just crap at all that stuff…”

Nicole is half tempted to resume the joke (_ ‘what, at fixing a truck?’ _) but she knows it is not fair to Waverly to do so. 

“You won’t be, but if you were, it still wouldn’t matter. That’s kinda not what it’s about, not for me.”

“Then what…”

“I don’t know. I just like being close to you. Physically and metaphorically. It’s just fun to be open with you and it doesn’t really have to progress further than that.” 

In truth, Nicole thinks about the physicality between the two of them a _ lot _. She wants to let Waverly know that - so that she can know she is desired in a way that is respectful and loving and very, very real - but she also thinks it would not hit the right notes at this very moment. 

“When I was with, well, I never told you his name. Michael, the guy I dated,” Waverly begins, “I wasn’t...like, I wasn’t totally ready. It was definitely, like, I agreed and I knew the ramifications of that, but I wasn’t really ready in the sense of my own head, or actually in the moment. It wasn’t super fun, for obvious reasons. We only did it again a couple more times before he broke up with me. It made me nervous every time, but not because I wanted it to be good or fun or whatever. Now though, I’m just nervous because I want it to be special and something that makes you really happy.”

“But it has to make you happy too though, yeah?” 

“I know. It’s not the same kind of nerves, trust me. I think we should try to work something out. I know you want it to not be in here.”

“I’ll let you lead,” Nicole says gently, smiling across at Waverly as the light of dawn slowly creeps into the room. “But no pressure, right?”

“Right,” Waverly agrees, smiling back, and Nicole believes she means it. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Are either of you two working tomorrow night?” Gus asks at the breakfast table the following Thursday, although she probably knows Waverly’s rota at the bar as well as Waverly herself. 

“Nope, not me,” Waverly says, scrolling through her Instagram feed and not looking up. 

Nicole calls up her timetable on her phone. “Apparently not, no,” she answers eventually, still working her way through a stack of toast. 

“Okay, well I can get you both from school and get you set up in Shorty’s for homework,” Gus replies. “Just so long as I know.” 

“Can’t we just stay here?” Waverly asks, and Gus turns to her, looking surprised. “What? It’s not like we’ve ever not turned our homework in when we’re left here to do it? And we work here often enough.” 

“Then a change of scenery should do you good.”

“I work at the bar,” Waverly points out. “It’s loud. I just want to come back here and put my pyjamas on. Nicole probably does too.” 

Nicole raises her eyebrows at Waverly as if to say _ hey, don’t drag me into this _. Gus seems to catch the look, and it is probably the thing that, eventually, convinces her that Waverly does not have some kind of agenda. 

As far as Nicole knows, there are no parties planned at the weekend - and even when there are events to go to, they only attend every so often. Too frequently, parties mean Champ and Steph and their friends, which in turn usually means that Waverly and Nicole are not welcome. 

Nicole had not been consulted about the plan to stay in on Friday night, but she has to admit that a night in for the first time all week would be good. On the evenings she has not been working, she has been playing sports, and yet again her path has rarely crossed with Waverly until it is time to sleep. 

“Well, I can’t cook you dinner,” Gus says, although she very evidently knows that she has lost the battle to dissuade Waverly. She does not seem as though she particularly wants to, but rather seems to feel obliged to at least give it a try. 

“I’ve got a bit of spare money from a few extra shifts last week,” Nicole says. “I can order pizza for us both.”

“You _ could _ both cook something,” Gus points out with an amused smile.

“Pizza is much more fun,” Waverly points out.

“And I really would enjoy a night in the house,” Nicole adds.

“Well, it would make a nice change to see you between these four walls,” Gus agrees, “not that I’ll be around to see it. I can’t pick you both up though, so you’ll have to drive yourself into school tomorrow morning.”

Waverly agrees, and is as good as her word the next morning. By the time the evening rolls around, however, it becomes clear that her comment to Gus might not have been as off the cuff as she had implied. 

They get home from school and eat their takeout pizzas as they try to power through their homework. It baffles Nicole how they manage to turn in all of their assignments, because by the end of each week she looks back and has no idea where her time has gone. Even when she is at home and her homework is done, she is filling out applications for scholarships and education grants. When she is not doing that she is taking the last of her practice driving tests so that she can sit her final non-practical test. 

After all that is over, she is lucky if she has the energy left to drag herself into the shower and then to bed. 

This does, however, mean that she and Waverly have both become dab hands at clearing their assignments as fast as possible, in sheer desperation for some time to themselves. 

They bid goodbye to Wynonna, heading out to do a bar shift of their own, right as Nicole finishes her Math problem set. She waits patiently for Waverly to write the concluding paragraph of a History essay, fussing the ears of an inquisitive and somewhat attention-seeking Luna, who worms herself onto Nicole’s closed notebook. 

“At least I’m finished,” Nicole coos at the cat, who flicks her tail and purrs happily. 

“Me too in five…” Waverly begins, completing the count down just in time to emphatically tap her pen against the paper in an ostentatious show at writing a period. “Done. It’s finally the weekend.” 

“Thank God,” Nicole says with a sigh. “I’m so tired.” 

“Not too tired, I hope,” Waverly replies, grinning and looking impish and utterly breathtaking. 

Nicole raises her eyebrows in an expression of silent inquiry, waiting for Waverly to elucidate.

“Please, I didn’t get us time in the house without my aunt, uncle, _ and _ sister for you to have an early night.” 

Nicole feels her eyebrows climb higher, this time in surprise rather than anything else. It had not occurred to her for a second that Waverly had had something like this up her sleeve, much less after the conversation they had shared a week ago. 

“Waves…”

“Nope,” Waverly says quickly, leaning across the couch and stealing a kiss. “I’m good nervous. We have an empty house. This may never happen again,” she jokes, but she also probably has a point. The reliable permanent presence of _ someone _ in the McCready house had been a pleasant symbol of stability to Nicole at the beginning, but now she was starting to admit that were _ some _ drawbacks to this family lifestyle. 

“See, having absentee parents at my place would have worked in our favour once or twice,” she jokes back, letting Waverly steal more kisses before and after she speaks. Although, it cannot reasonably be deemed theft if she is giving something away willingly.

“_ And _,” Waverly goes on, electing to ignore Nicole’s comment, “I’ve been doing some thinking, and I’ve come up with a plan-slash-surprise. But you have to let me show you.” 

Nicole grins. “Then lead the way.” 

She expects Waverly to take her through the house, but instead she finds herself being tugged by the wrist to the backdoor. Luna slips outside with them, although she has every option to use the newly installed cat flap at the bottom of the door. 

It takes Nicole a beat too long to work out that Waverly is taking them to the treehouse. It seems kind of fitting, actually, when she considers it. They have shared so many secrets out there, even on the coldest of winter nights, when the little portable heater helped keep them warm amongst the nest of blankets and shared body heat.

They had even taken to leaving more and more blankets up there, satisfied that neither Gus nor Curtis was checking and, upon climbing up the ladder, Nicole notes that there are some new cushions stacked up on one side of the room. They appear to be the kind that go on garden furniture, and Nicole can only assume that Waverly had done some sneaking about during the week. 

Waverly follows her into the room and clicks a few switches. One is for the heater - they keep having to sneak it indoors and secretly recharge it in Waverly’s room, yet another reason why Nicole is happy to welcome the spring and, soon, the summer. The other switch is for the lights which, in this case, is one dim lamp and a series of fairy lights that line the rafters. Nicole has always loved the effect they create in here. It is easy to pretend they are in some remote log cabin in the wilderness, somewhere they can be alone with each other with no life stresses to follow them inside. 

However, when Waverly pulls up the ladder, it sort of feels as though this is close enough. Nicole feels all of her worries about school and work and sports melt away. It really is just her and Waverly, and it sort of feels like a pretty momentous occasion.

That is because, well, it _ is _a pretty momentous occasion. 

Waverly’s lips are on hers the moment that they both settle onto the couch, and by the time the heater has fully kicked in, their shirts, Nicole’s jeans, and Waverly’s skirt have been well and truly discarded. 

They barely find the inclination to set up their usual haven of blankets and cushions and scatter pillows (_ and _ , Nicole finds herself thinking at a completely inappropriate time, _ this would make a great space for a blanket fort to watch movies in the summer _), except that the couch really is tiny. 

“Waves…” Nicole says, needing to make her point one final time. They do not _ need _ to do this, not if…

“Yes, I do,” Waverly replies, answering the question before Nicole even needs to ask it. 

  
  
  
  


“I love you,” Nicole whispers into the silence. “I really, really love you.” 

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Waverly murmurs back, and it’s okay that she changed the subject, but Nicole kind of wants to make it clear that this is not just because of what just happened. 

“Actually, I’ve never really said it to anyone…” 

She and Shae had never said it to each other, and she had never really dated anyone before that. She didn’t have that degree of closeness with her extended family, and although she had said it to her parents as a child, her attempts to share affection or court it from them had died out pretty fast. 

It was funny, really, she thinks, as she reflects upon it there and then, with the fairy lights winking down at her, and Waverly soft and warm and bare in her arms. 

No one had really taught her how to love, not really. But she knew she loved Waverly. She knew she loved everyone presently in her life to some degree or another. 

No one had taught her how to accept love, either. Not before the McCreadys. Yet, she was learning that now she had started to heal, love came naturally to her. It felt easy, simple, like the most _ obvious _ and natural thing in the world. 

She loved Waverly Earp, and it was _ perfect _.

She’d loved her before this night, and she loved her _ during _ this night, and she’d love her for every night after this one. 

Waverly buries closer, and Nicole knows that she probably loves her too. 

It doesn’t even matter that she doesn’t say it (in fact, it shocks Nicole how genuinely she does not feel threatened or insecure about it) because love was an easy thing to fall into, but it was not an easy thing to think or speak or understand. 

It was easy to love Waverly, though.

She made it so damn easy. 

  
  
  
  
  


Two weeks later, as April sings its swansong, Nicole is dropped home with Curtis after a post-school basketball game. Waverly had been off school on the preceding days with a niggling cold and a cough that was clinging increasingly to her chest. She did not seem to be horribly sick, but between her and the rest of the family, it was deemed that she - like most of the people in her grade - was overworking herself, and a few days rest would do her better in the long run.

Waverly had not been particularly reassured about missing class, but she had, eventually, had enough sense to work out that she would be less able to keep up in the long run if she just kept getting more and more sick. 

The time off seemed to have done her good, and she looked visibly brighter than evening than she had when Nicole left the house an exhausting twelve hours before.

Nicole carefully shuts the door behind her and walks over to Waverly. Her kiss is diverted to Waverly’s cheek by her girlfriend, who is adamant that Nicole should not get sick. Her chivalry was admirable, but Nicole was kind of missing making out. And laying in bed together. And, well, a few other things too. 

“How are you feeling?” she asks, although she had sent Waverly a message with that same question after school and before the basketball game started. 

“Hm?” Waverly asks, now almost at the point of rested and recovered that she forgets she had been particularly unwell. “Yeah, fine. I’m going back to school tomorrow I’ve decided.”

“Have Gus and Curtis decided too?” Nicole asks with a grin, aware that Waverly will have to convince them of this fact too. “It’s Friday tomorrow, you might as well just get a last day of rest in. I probably would.” 

“Nah, I’m too bored.”

Nicole chuckles, a little flutter of fond affection in her chest. “Why does that not surprise me?” 

“Anyway, how was school?”

“Yeah, fine. Boring really. Robin and Chrissy asked after you though.” 

“Yeah, they both messaged me at lunchtime. And what about the match just now - did you win?” 

“Yeah, we did.” 

“Even without me leading the cheers?” Waverly teases.

“It was a struggle but I soldiered on.”

“_ Hey _,” Waverly protests, “no need to be sarcastic."

"No _need_, but every inclination to."

Waverly rolls her eyes. "Whatever, just tell me about the match already. Did you score any goals?” 

Waverly asks this very earnestly, and Nicole cannot help but smile fondly across at the other girl. 

“Basketball Waves. So it’s baskets, not goals.”

“Oh,” Waverly says, blushing a little. “So how many of those did you um...get?” 

Nicole chuckles. “A few. Plus the winning basket, actually.” 

At this, Waverly beams and it makes Nicole’s chest tight. “You did? That’s amazing! I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to cheer you on.” 

“Don’t be, there’s always next time,” Nicole says, shrugging and dropping down onto the bed so that she can lay on her back. Waverly will just have to accept her proximity this time. If she was going to catch the cold she would have done so by now. 

Just as they both get comfortable, however, Gus’ voice carries up to them, and something subtle in her tone sets Nicole’s nerves out of kilter.

She shouts only for Waverly, who calls back, nearly perforating Nicole’s eardrum in the process. She rubs at her ear pointedly, and Waverly rolls her eyes as if to say _ stop being such a big baby _.

If she has noticed anything strange about Gus’ voice, then she gives no indication of this whatsoever. 

Then, however, Gus calls her downstairs, and the words are tense and strained. 

She gives no mention of Nicole whatsoever, which basically means she is to stay put, but all the same her first thought is that their relationship has been caught out.

She tries to catch Waverly’s eye as she scoots to the foot of the bed to get off and walk to the door, but she keeps her own gaze pointed resolutely away.

Nicole listens as she traipses downstairs, then hears the sound of chairs scraping on the kitchen floor. It would seem Waverly is going to be there for a while. 

For a short time, Nicole cannot hear anything untoward, and she wonders if she has worked herself up over nothing. Although the McCreadys most often picked up regular catch-up conversations with Nicole, it was not entirely unheard of for them to do so with Waverly too.

Perhaps they want to check up on her health and discuss her return to school.

Perhaps she has received another university acceptance letter.

Perhaps she…

But, after another minute or two, Nicole’s list of _ perhaps’ _goes out the window.

The quiet murmur of voices downstairs become more and more audible as their volumes raise, and after another five minutes there is no denying that whatever is happening is some form of conflict or disagreement. 

Nicole cannot quite hear Curtis, but she can hear Gus and Waverly talking in increasingly frustrated and loud tones of voice. Then, to her surprise, a fourth voice is added to mix and she realises that Wynonna must have come home and been caught up in whatever discussion is ensuing. 

More time passes, and Nicole hears the sound of chairs scraping again. Or, at least one chair scrapes against the kitchen tiles.

Then, to her surprise, she hears Waverly’s voice again, this time much louder and very obviously coming from the hallway. 

“You don’t get to tell me that I can’t do this,” she seems to say or, rather, to shout. “It’s my life and I get to make this choice.”

Nicole is even more surprised when she hears the front door open and close, and the sound of a truck starting up in the front driveway. It pulls away and there is silence, so far as Nicole can tell, for five or ten minutes before she hears her own name being called by Gus. 

Feeling rather glum and exceptionally nervous, she makes her way downstairs as slowly as possible. 

She finds the McCreadys both sat at the kitchen table and Wynonna resting against one of the counters, her arms crossed and her expression thunderous. It is worryingly similar to Gus’ own expression, while Curtis looks mournful and rather tired. 

“I’m sure you heard all of that,” Curtis says after a moment, sounding as tired as he looks. There had been a lot of activity on the farm recently, and it was safe to say that Waverly and Nicole were not the only ones working themselves hard. 

“Not really any specific words,” Nicole says because she had only heard Waverly’s last comments and nothing at all that preceded them. “Just raised voices.”

“When we’re done here I’d like you to try and call Waverly please. Something tells me that, out of all of us, you’re the only one she’s going to pick up for at the moment.” 

Nicole nods. “Okay.” 

“Clearly you’re not the only one who needs some space sometimes,” Gus says, and Nicole cannot tell from her voice if she is to take this as a criticism. She thinks that, judging by Gus’ countenance, the other woman is not thinking much about her words at all. 

“I need to ask you Nicole,” Curtis goes on, and Nicole feels her insides turn to jelly, “if you knew about something that Waverly has been hiding from us.”

He pauses and seems to expect a response, so Nicole once again says, “okay.” 

“Waverly has been doing some research, some work, that isn’t related to her school projects.” 

They have, Nicole realises with a jolt, found out about the revenants and the library books. After that jolt has passed, however, she feels a deep rush of relief, followed by a heavy dose of shame that she is so easily pacified by what must have been such a horrible moment for Waverly. In the time it takes for all of this to pass through her mind, she realises too late that she has done a horrible job of looking surprised or confused or, honestly, anything other than pretty guilty. 

Gus notices right away and grows, if anything, more thunderous than before.

“Ah,” Curtis goes on, clearly also reading into Nicole’s expression. “It would seem that you did.”

“I’m - ” Nicole begins but then immediately hesitates. She is not sorry, not really. She kept a secret to help out Waverly, and it had paled into comparison (in her mind, at least) to the _ other _ secret she was keeping.

“I know that you two are very close,” Curtis says. “And for the most part I’m very happy about that, but not if it’s going to breed secrecy. Not if the two of you are going to keep things from us.” 

“We should have been told about this,” Gus says, sounding furious. 

“Waverly told me something in confidence,” Nicole counters, feeling a prickle of irritation that they would so happily see Waverly betrayed in that way. “She has to know she can trust me.”

“When something isn’t in her best interests, as her friend you should consider that, too,” Gus retorts. 

Nicole opens her mouth to respond, but realises that there will be hell to pay for commenting on what she feels is in Waverly’s best interests. She closes her mouth again quickly. 

“You’ve known for how long, exactly?” Wynonna asks quietly from the sidelines, and Nicole almost jumps. For perhaps the first time ever, Wynonna had been so deathly still and quiet that Nicole had forgotten she was there. 

Nicole thinks back, genuinely struggling to remember exactly how long this has been an accepted, normal part of Waverly’s routine. 

“I can’t - ” Nicole begins, eyes on the ceiling as she tries to count backwards.

Wynonna sighs impatiently. “This year? Or earlier?” 

“Earlier,” Nicole admits, bracing herself for detonation. 

“You _ know _ what all our dad’s crazy talk did to us,” Wynonna says, voice pure acid and rage. “You know the kind of shit it brought us, and you’ve stood by and let her do this to herself? She’s supposed to have put all that behind her. She’s supposed to be the _ normal _ one.” 

“How can she put it behind her? It’s never spoken about?” Nicole retorts, forgetting her place completely. “I got brought here so I could talk through my demons and get them out my system, but it’s like this isn’t talked about just because it’s about literal demons. I know that’s super out there. I know how others reacted to it. But she isn’t talking about it outside of here, is she? She’s just trying to _ understand_.”

“There’s nothing to understand because it’s not _ real _, Nicole. You must know that.” 

“I know that Waverly’s trying to prove that to herself. That’s all she’s doing.”

“A real friend would have helped her put a stop to this,” Wynonna cries, still furious.

Nicole wants to tell her that real friends stick by the people they love no matter what, but she knows she has already said too much. She has given far too much away about her conversations with Waverly about the revenants and the curse - real or otherwise - and can only hope she hasn’t made things worse.

“You don’t get to decide what our niece should or shouldn’t be doing,” Curtis says quietly. “Not under our roof.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say all of that.” 

Curtis sends her a careful, appraising sort of glance, almost as if he knows that Wynonna - for all her genuinely great qualities - does have a habit of eliciting that very sort of kneejerk, defensive response from people. 

“You’re not going to be in trouble,” Curtis says, although this earns a rather hearty scoff from Wynonna. “And yes, perhaps we do need to discuss this more with Waverly. But this should have been brought to us. I know you’re both eighteen but as long as you’re both here, serious stuff like this goes through us as well.” 

Nicole nods. “Okay. Sorry.” 

There is something strange about Curtis’ reaction, almost as though he is not quite as shocked or scandalised as his wife or his niece. Nicole cannot help but wonder if Waverly is the only one in the family who has her suspicions about her father’s stories, but it just seems too much of a long shot that Curtis might believe too. 

After all, Nicole is not really sure whether _ she _ believes it all.

“Now please go back to your room and call my niece for me, so that I can stop myself worrying about her driving her truck while in this frame of mind. She’s only going to answer for you at the moment.”

“Okay,” Nicole says, standing up and chancing a glance at Wynonna. She still looks thunderous, and Nicole is shocked that she hasn’t got smoke coming out of her ears. 

“Oh, and Nicole,” Gus says before Nicole can leave. She, at least, looks a little calmer than before. She still, however asks, “and if there’s anything else I don’t know about my niece that I ought to, perhaps you can tell me now.”

Nicole feels her stomach squeeze around itself. 

She shakes her head.

“No, there’s nothing else.” 

  
  
  
  
  


Waverly picks up on the third call. 

“Told you they’d hate me for it,” she says, before Nicole even has a chance to speak. 

“They don’t hate you for it. They’re worried, like they were that time I just ran out the house. I’m worried too. Please tell me you’ve pulled over.” 

“I’m on hand’s free either way but yeah, I’ve been pulled over a while. Sorry I didn’t answer the other times.”

“It’s okay, I know you need time.”

“They asked you to call.”

“I mean, I would have a bit later anyway, but yeah. They want you home safe.”

“I will come home safe.” 

“I know you will.” 

“Did you get in trouble too?”

“Yeah, kinda.” 

“I’m sorry Nicole.”

Nicole shakes her head, even though Waverly cannot see her. “It’s not your thing to be sorry for.” 

“I mean, it literally is,” Waverly counters, voice a little hard at the edges. Then, a moment later, she speaks again and sounds close to tears. “But thanks. And sorry. This isn’t your fault.” 

“It’s fine. Look, I chose at all times to keep your secret because I wanted to. You deserved that. And I really didn’t think it would go down like this.” 

“I think they’re more upset that I’ve kept it from them, than that I did it. But I had to tell them it’s been going since before last year, and that’s when Wynonna walked in.” 

It still, to Nicole, feels like such an odd thing to be guarded about. She could already see that Gus was softening and adapting to the idea, and Curtis did not seem all that concerned, but Wynonna had taken the news badly.

But, then again, Nicole knows she cannot ever truly understand what both girls went through. 

She tries not to think about how Waverly’s words could just as easily apply to the relationship and instead says, “please come home. We’re all worried.” 

“I’ll come back in a bit. Promise. I just need another few minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you in peace.” Nicole drops her voice and makes sure the door is closed. “Love you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Gus had, it transpired, gone into Waverly’s room earlier that day while Waverly was in town at the pharmacy with Wynonna, buying something for her throat. 

It may well have been the first time in years that Gus had gone into the room except to drop off laundry, and was seemingly in an attempt to find some kind of paperwork she apparently needed urgently enough not to wait until Waverly’s return home. Something about her papers for working at the bar. 

Either way, Waverly had left her research out on the bed - an odd and unfortunate oversight on her part - and Gus had correctly put two and two together from just one glimpse.

Nicole learns all this when Waverly eventually comes home. Her truck pulls up into the drive, the door slams shut, and Nicole hears her head immediately upstairs. 

When she walks into the room it is obvious she has been crying, but she is far more composed than Nicole expected her to be.

All the same, she is obviously in need of some comfort, and immediately reaches out for a hug. 

“I know she’s not really mad at me,” Waverly murmurs against Nicole, who is left to assume that she is talking about Gus. “I know it’s just a shock.” 

“It is,” Nicole agrees, hand drifting slowly up and down Waverly’s back in a smooth, soothing motion. 

And, as it happened, that was more or less how things played out. At least, that was the case with Gus. Wynonna had already taken herself off to another bar shift and, after a somewhat reconciliatory conversation with Waverly, Gus goes to Shorty’s, leaving dinner on the table for Nicole, Curtis, and Waverly. 

They begin the meal in an awkward, rather tense silence, until Curtis breaks it by saying,

“Your aunt, she just wants you to be careful.” 

Waverly pauses before spearing a chunk of sweet potato on her fork. “I know.”

“She could never be that mad at you, not really.” 

“I know,” Waverly repeats softly, although she does not sound especially convinced about that.

“Give her this evening. She’ll reflect on your reasons and she’ll understand. Just because she doesn’t believe in all of that stuff, doesn’t mean she doesn’t know just how much you and your sister needed closure.”

“I’ll have to stop reading the books,” Waverly says, and she does not sound sullen but she does sound defeated. 

“You won’t,” Curtis replies, sounding quietly assured. 

“She’s already says she wants me to focus more on school. But I was only doing the other stuff when the rest of my work was done. I’ve always done my assignments first.” 

This, Nicole knows, is true. It seems Curtis does too.

“That wasn’t a full ban. Just carry on what you’re doing, then once your schoolwork is done keep reading your other books.” 

“I still don’t think…”

“Waverly,” Curtis says gently. “Just trust this old man here, okay? I’ve known your aunt a very long time. She’ll go to any lengths to protect who she loves. She wants you to move on from all the stuff that happened with your father, and if this is how you need to do it, then trust me, she’ll support that.”

Nicole catches Waverly looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Curtis notices the expression too, and sends a questioning look across the table at them.

“Nicole said something not totally dissimilar to that when she asked me why I was keeping it a secret.” 

Curtis smiles. “Well, she’s a very smart girl,” he says, tone lilting and a little bit teasing. Then, all of a sudden, he grows serious again. “But, in seriousness, we should have made you feel that you could tell us.”

“It wasn’t just you. I worked myself up to that point. I knew what I was doing wasn’t going too far - like, I knew I was doing all the reading without it getting obsessive and unhealthy. But I also didn’t want to worry you and, also, no offence, but it kind of felt like something I had to do on my own. Nicole has helped out a little bit this year so far, but mostly just when I sift through books.”

“I can understand that you wanted to do this on your own terms Waverly, there’s nothing wrong with that. But as we’ve told Nicole this whole time, you need to be open with us too.” 

“I know,” Waverly says yet again. “I’m sorry. Also, I don’t want Nicole to get into any trouble for this. I asked her to keep it a secret. And even though she never said it, I know she only kept the secret because she saw I wasn’t super attached to reading through all the books.”

Curtis darts his gaze to Nicole, who had been happy to simply sit in silence and let the conversation filter past her. He seems to want her to say something, however, so she takes a sip of water and says,

“It really didn’t seem like anything to worry about.” She half expects Curtis to tell her again that he and Gus were the ones who should make that judgement call, but instead he asks a question that seems to surprise Nicole and Waverly in equal measure. 

“And has what you’ve heard got you believing in revenants yet?”

Perhaps more strange than the question, however, is the tone with which he asks it. From some, it might sound as though it is tongue-in-cheek or even somewhat teasing. Curtis, however, seems to genuinely want to know the answer. 

It puts a spotlight on Nicole, because thus far she and Waverly have always avoided speaking about this. Since that first discussion about the curse, Waverly has never again so much as skirted the territory of outright admitting that she believes in revenants, but it is obvious that she does - at least to some degree. 

Nicole, on the other hand, simply does not have enough evidence either way. She is keeping an open mind, but she knows how it sounds to sit on the fence with something like this. On instinct alone, she thinks that it matters to Waverly that she is not the only one to believe in the curse. Certainly, Wynonna and Gus are unlikely to share her belief, and it is obvious that she looks to Nicole as her most immediate source of solidarity. 

Not wanting to be silent for too long, Nicole says, “I’ve only just started learning about them, and I’m sort of an ‘empirical evidence’ kind of person.”

“So, no evidence yet that they exist.”

“And no evidence they don’t, either. But if it were me, I’d want to do everything in my power to find out either way.” 

No matter her relationship with her father it is, Nicole knows, the truth that if someone killed him right in front of her eyes, then she would want to know who they were and why they had done it. Even if that meant researching the possibility of demons. 

On instinct, she glances to Waverly to check her reaction, and it is obvious that she has said the right thing. She does not want to lie to Waverly, and she knows that the worst possible thing she could do would be to humour her like she is a child with a fairytale. 

This, she knows, had been part of Waverly’s insecurities about telling her family the truth. Almost as bad as being accused of being delusional would be to be babied and humoured instead. 

“Well, maybe don’t tell your aunt I said this and leave that discussion for me to have when she gets home, but I don’t actually disagree with either of you.”

He looks directly at Waverly. “If this is something that you felt you needed to do angel, then that’s okay with me. I spent a long time listening to the Earps talk about revenants and curses after your mom married your dad. I know they believed it emphatically, and that they felt they had the perfect evidence to prove it. Hell, listening to your dad talk in the early days, before you were even born, mind, I thought I could half-believe it myself. There have been stranger stories coming out of the mountains and the forests than that over the years.”

Nicole catches Waverly gaping at this, a wedge of tomato dropping off her fork and onto her plate as she forgets about the remnants of her dinner. 

For her own part, Nicole struggles to believe this completely too. She had experienced enough transformative conversations with Curtis McCready to know that he would be understanding, but to hear him tacitly admit that he might believe in the supernatural was another thing entirely. 

Looking at his niece’s expression, Curtis McCready cannot resist a big belly laugh. “What? You think an old timer like me can’t be open-minded?” 

“No, it’s not that…” Waverly says, still looking shell shocked. 

Still smiling, Curtis adds gently, “I know. People haven’t always made it easy to explore the idea. But, between the of you, I’m not sure I know a smarter person - excepting my wife, of course. So, if you think it’s worth reading about, then you read about it.”

“But Gus…”

“Promise me you’ll talk to her when she gets home. You might just be surprised…”

  
  
  


(A few hours later, Waverly sits down with her aunt and although it comes as no surprise to Nicole, Gus shocks her niece by coming to a rather similar conclusion as Curtis.

It is clear, even a week later, that she is still not totally comfortable with the whole idea, but Nicole can kind of understand that Waverly’s father’s beliefs represent a world that stole Gus’ sister away. If Waverly’s stories about her dad paint him as cruel to her, then he seemed to be no kinder when it came to his wife. If Nicole were Gus, she’d resent everything that reminded her of the man who hurt her sister too. 

All the same, Waverly still does her reading within the confines of the bedroom, and never around the rest of the house. Nicole still helps her choose books, and still watches as she meticulously copies out notes and sticks photocopied pages into a journal that appeared to be groaning at the seams. Even though she does not find another familiar face, she takes an interest in every one of the outlaws Wyatt kills, and Nicole sees the moment that, without the veil of secrecy around her, Waverly starts to enjoy the research in its own right. 

Gus quietly supports her, and Curtis asks the right questions at the right times, and Wynonna does not talk about the curse at all). 

  
  
  
  


In mid-April, Nicole passes her non-practical driving assessment and is given the green light, almost literally, to take the practical test. She’s had her name on the waiting list, so manages to secure a slot pretty easily. 

She has found that driving has come pretty naturally to her, so does not feel particularly nervous about the assessment. Rather, she is simply looking forward to having her license because, as much as she appreciates the offers of assistance, driving around almost needlessly in order to get practice in was really eating into her study time. And when she had more studying to do, that in turn ate into her Waverly time. Which, as far as Nicole was concerned, was pretty unacceptable. 

The day before her practical exam - a bright, blue-skied Sunday - they make their first trip out for a proper hike in the mountains. They had not been close enough (or permitted enough freedom) to do this before the winter set in, and winter had certainly felt long and bitter and unrelenting. Now, however, spring was clawing through the snow clouds, and although it was still far from warm, it was time to get outdoors.

The farm is just far enough from the mountains that a day trip can only really accommodate a hike at the very base, where the incline is only just beginning. 

Waverly, by her own admission, is perfectly content with this turn of events. 

“I’m not really a hiking person,” she says for the second time that morning, although she is clearly putting a brave face on things for Nicole.

“Of the two of us,” Nicole responds, “how are _ you _ the one that grew up on a farm?”

“I know, I know,” Waverly sighs. “It’s not like I don’t like being outside, _ per sé _…”

“But you just don’t want to be outside for all that long?” Nicole teases, knowing that this is not a particularly accurate assessment either, but saying so anyway, just to earn an endearing pout from Waverly.

Nicole glances over her shoulder just in time to catch the expression before it fades.

“_ No _,” Waverly huffs, “just that I’d rather be curled up with a book than getting all sweaty hiking for no reason. I prefer to get where I’m going.” 

“Well, I won’t drag you too far, promise. And I won’t interrupt you while you’re reading your book,” Nicole says, before adding grandly, “_ and _ , next time, I’ll bring a hammock and tie it between two trees so you can recline _ properly _.” 

“I can’t tell if you’re teasing or not.”

“Not,” Nicole says, but then amends, “well, I am. But I will actually put you up a hammock if we can find one.” 

“_ So romantic _,” Waverly deadpans, not sounding particularly enthused.

“Hey, I’m offering to leave you sunbathing while I go hiking _ all by myself _ next time. Which is just tragic, really.”

“You’ll live,” Waverly quips. “But just saying, if you really loved me, you’d go all out and get one of those palm leaves you see people being fanned with in movies.” 

Nicole snorts. “Dream on.” 

“I _ will _,” Waverly shoots back haughtily. Then, quietly, she murmurs “it’s better than hiking.”

Nicole knows that she is only half serious, however. She seems to genuinely enjoy the quality time they get to spend together and, by the time they find a decent spot to eat their makeshift picnic lunch, the sun has risen and it is warm enough for them to both discard an outer layer. 

They do not move for the rest of the day and, true to her word, Nicole does not try to distract Waverly from her reading. She is perfectly content with the peace of simply being in Waverly’s company, and alternates between reading through the information pack about her driving exam, and fooling about on a rock face with a steady, gradual incline that poses no danger whatsoever.

She has always been fascinated by the idea of climbing, and wonders if there is any way she can learn while she is out here. She makes a mental note to ask Curtis, then goes back to Waverly, who is watching her with increasing concern. Her hands sting and tingle pleasantly after the rough scratch of the rocks, and she cannot wait to do it again. 

  
  
  


Nicole sits her exam the next day, driving under the watchful, beady eye of a severe-looking woman with a sharp, angular face and a rather hooked nose. 

She starts by checking Nicole can read a few signs and license plates at a modest distance, before showing Nicole to the test car.

It is slightly nerve wracking to be driving a new car at the very moment that she needs to make no mistakes at all. The examiner makes a point of telling Nicole that she should not expect her to go easy on her (although it is rather baffling to Nicole that the woman should even think to say such a thing), because she was here to be completely fair and unbiased. 

Nicole simply makes a show of putting her seatbelt on, and checking and adjusting all of the mirrors. She can see the woman watching her out of the corner of her eye, and nervously turns the key in the ignition. She thinks back on all the advice that Waverly and Chrissy gave her about the exam, and even thinks that this might be the same examiner that they drove with. 

Waverly had passed on the first try but Chrissy, due to a rather unfortunate parallel parking misdemeanour, had had to take the test twice.

They have told Nicole that the examiners count how often she checks the rearview mirror, so she should do that frequently, and that it is not well-received if she speaks to them without good cause. Apparently, having the radio on too loud is also considered something of a transgression, so when the engine coughs into life and the radio sounds, she immediately turns the volume dial down to the lowest audible setting. The examiner marks a piece of paper she carries on a clipboard, and the motion of her arm seems to indicate that she has drawn a tick.

Nicole sends a silent word of thanks to Chrissy for the tip-off, and simply drives away upon command. 

  
  
  
  


She had known that the family intended to meet her after the test was over, in part because she has no other way of getting home after the exam, so it is no surprise when she sees Waverly, Wynonna, and Gus clustered together in the parking lot. 

She had been nervous about the possibility of having to tell the family - and Curtis in particular - that she had failed the test, but deep down she had always known she would pass. 

She clutches the paperwork that says she is now fully qualified to drive without another driver present with immediate effect, and her completed application for a full license, and tries not to break out into a jog as she crosses the parking area. 

If she is being honest, it is a bit of a disappointment that Curtis was not here too, because he had given a lot of time over to sitting in the passenger seat of the truck as Nicole drove around, and it would have been good for him to get the news at the same time as the others. All the same, she understands that he is busy with the farm, and knows he will be proud of her nonetheless. 

As soon as she is in earshot, she says, “guys, guess what? I pass-”

The family turns to look at her when they hear her voice, and it is immediately obvious that something is not quite right.

In the blink of an eye, Waverly has rushed into Nicole’s space and grabbed onto her tightly, and for a second Nicole’s heart lurches as she wonders if Waverly has completely lost her mind and forgotten to keep displays of affection to a bare minimum. 

It is very clear that this is not a celebratory hug, and it is equally clear from the looks on Wynonna and Gus’ faces that something is very, very awry. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, some sixth sense making her blood run cold in anticipation.

“It’s Curtis,” Waverly says, words coming out as a little sob as she clings to Nicole tighter. Evidently, whatever it is, it is bad enough for her to seek Nicole’s touch in plain sight of her aunt and sister. This only scares Nicole more.

“He’s in the hospital,” Gus says, her own voice sounding thick. “We’ve just this second found out as we were on our way here. He was doing some work up at the Yerby farm, helping out with some of the lambs.” 

“Well, is he okay?” Nicole asks, mind immediately running through all the different kinds of accidents that can occur on a farm. She wonders if he has had a fall or hurt himself with some tools. 

The look on Gus’ face says that it is so much more, however, and Nicole’s suspicions are confirmed as she says,

“They think he’s had a heart attack. They’re not sure if he’s going to make it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Runs and hides].
> 
> If you're not too mad I'd love to hear your thoughts, either in a comment or on twitter. I'm @rositabustiiios.
> 
> I hope you have a good week and until next time, take care!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Thanks as ever for your kind words here and on twitter, and I really hope you like the introspection in this admittedly not that cheery chapter. 
> 
> And I hope you don't hate me for the ending.

For what feels like the hundredth time in just a few months, Nicole Haught’s life reshapes itself once again in the blink of an eye.

Without really saying much of anything, they pile into Gus’ truck, and drive to the hospital.

Nicole’s head swims as the truck’s tyres rumble against the tarmac, and she faintly hears herself saying,

“You shouldn’t have waited for me. You should have just gone straight to him.”

“We’d only just arrived,” Wynonna mutters, barely audible against the ringing in Nicole’s ears. “Literally that second. If you’d still been on the road, we’d have thought of something.”

“Oh,” Nicole says, not really sure if there are too many other words left in her vocabulary. Certainly, there are none that matter.

“He’ll want you there,” Waverly murmurs from the shotgun seat, craning around to look at Nicole. Her eyes are red but, Nicole notes, she still hasn’t cried. “You’re family.”

But, Nicole knows, this is not true. If it really came down to it and the hospital needed to know technicalities, then Nicole would not make the cut.

She says nothing to Waverly, only tries for a tight-lipped, closed-mouth smile that falls flat, then averts her eyes. She feels close to falling apart, and that in itself feels crass and lewd. This is not her pain to feel. This is about everyone else, and the last thing they need is to be comforting her.

With a Herculean effort she forces the tears back, swallows down the emotion clotting at her throat.

She lifts her eyes again, but Waverly has already sat back in her seat.

The hospital is much like any other hospital; sprawling, uninspiring, foreboding. It is a peaky, aged, off-white colour on the outside, and far too dazzlingly white on the inside. The few colours that do appear are dingy-looking turquoises and aquamarines, kind of like toothpaste; clean, Nicole supposes, and dependable. 

Gus does the talking at the reception desk, and is the only one who can hear the directions that are given to get them to the cardiac ward. As such, she leads them through the corridors, trying to look for all the world as though she is in charge and in control. She glances surreptitiously at the signposts scattered around the walls and by the elevators, as though not knowing the route was a moment of weakness she could not afford.

They make it to the ward without any mishaps, and are ushered into a quiet relatives room. In the movies this is the part where someone grows impatient and demands to see the patient. In reality, no one says anything, not even Wynonna, and everyone is completely obedient. Gus sits first, and Waverly and Wynonna follow, all in one sombre formation on a set of uncomfortable waiting room chairs.

Nicole sits on Gus’ other side, no one to her right. She wants to fold herself back into the chair’s upholstery and disappear. She wants the colour to fade out of her until she is transparent, invisible, and the rest of the family can forget she is there to be cared for too. She wants her grief to vanish from her face and to simply stand back and ensure that all of the hospital’s caring time to the family.

Instead, she sits and looks at the floor. It is only as she does so that she realises she is still clutching the results of her driving exam like a life buoy in the ocean.

They sit for what must only be five or ten minutes, but, in the age-old cliché, it feels like forever. It is too much thinking time, a treacherous thing in this context. It is as though everyone’s mood is tangible in the air, thickening it in obvious, noticeable ways as the grief and the fear grow stronger. The idle time threatens to unhinge each of them entirely, just as the lack of any real information paves the path to complete and total inner panic.

Nicole thinks of the brown envelope still clutched between her fingers, wrinkling slightly in places. She almost wants to tear it up. It feels absurd now; trite and stupid and pathetic. She passed her driving exam and Curtis might be dead. Each of these things is a truth; one of them completely inconsequential, the other a landslide.

Curtis spent all those hours with Nicole, talking with her as she drove around on errands or just completely aimlessly. He might never know that all that time paid off.

Eventually, a sombre-looking doctor appears, dressed in scrubs and with a stethoscope hung around her neck, presumably to give an air of authority. She looks young, and she looks tired.

The doctor apologises for their wait, her voice soft and practised and carefully controlled. Nicole wonders if this is always her voice, or only her ‘bad news’ voice.

“How is he?” Gus asks, words tumbling out as if she had tried to hold them back, but could contain them no longer. “Is my husband…”

Nicole finds herself tensing, certain that if Gus breaks they will all break. But although Gus cannot bring herself to ask the question, her voice stays even and she keeps her composure. Nicole has always admired Gus McCready for all that she is, and for all that she is not, but Nicole has never felt the kind of admiration that she feels in that moment, for the woman who might have lost her husband and whose voice never shakes. Nicole cannot remember seeing strength like it, and decides that this is the kind of strength she wants to have.

“Your husband suffered a serious myocardial infarction – or, heart attack – as a result of two severe blockages in his coronary arteries. He arrested twice on the way over here, and although he is now currently stable, he is in a serious condition.”

At this, Nicole hears a tiny sob come from somewhere on the other side of Gus, and knows immediately that it was from Waverly. It is hard to tell whether the sound is born of grief or fear or some bitter relief that Curtis is still alive.

Nicole’s stomach flips over, sick with the knowledge that there is nothing she can do to make this better for any of the people in this room. She wonders what she can possibly offer them in this moment, and keeps her eyes fixed on the toes of her shoes as she tells herself that the answer is nothing at all. 

“Can we see him?” comes Wynonna’s voice, sounding raspy and very unlike her own.

The doctor confirms that Curtis can receive visitors, but cautions that he is unconscious and currently somewhat unresponsive.

“At present, we’re monitoring his heart very closely, and keeping the prospect of surgery as a very likely outcome of this,” the doctor adds. With a sad little sigh she says, “he’s very poorly, so you need to prepare yourselves for that.”

Already, Nicole is steeling herself for seeing Curtis so ill and frail, when Gus rises and shocks everyone else by saying, “I want you girls to stay here, just for a moment. I’ll come back for you once I’ve seen how your uncle’s doing.”

With Gus standing, Nicole can now see Waverly and Wynonna. Both of them look stricken, and Waverly has her mouth open in an expression of surprise that Nicole herself feels in equal measure.

No one would deprive Gus of some time alone with Curtis, but there is a note to her voice that suggests that she is checking the lay of the land. Nicole wonders how sick Curtis would have to look for Gus to deny the girls a visit completely.

It looks for a moment like Waverly might protest, but in the end she says nothing, and Gus disappears a moment later with the doctor, the heavy fire door closing behind them with a delayed  _ swoosh _ .

The room grows quiet again, no one making to speak or even to move. 

Nicole casts about for something comforting to say, but knows that almost anything will make Wynonna angry and Waverly tearful. She knows by now how each of them grieves, and there is nothing that can be said in this situation that will placate anyone at all.

They all stay sitting down, Nicole eventually putting her stupid envelope on Gus’ empty seat. She darts her eyes occasionally to and from the Earp sisters, who stay sat side-by-side but do not even seem to register that the other is there. After a little while, Waverly wriggles back in her seat, small enough that she can get the soles of her feet onto the chair, with just the toes poking out over the edge into nothingness. Her knees bend up and she wraps her arms around her legs, almost as though she is shielding herself.

Nicole watches as Waverly visibly bites at the insides of her cheeks, trying to stop herself from crying.

All told, Gus is gone for nearly half an hour. She is gone so long, in fact, that Nicole half convinces herself that Curtis has died. She’d bet that Waverly and Wynonna had had the same thought.

Eventually, however, Gus returns and stands in the doorway of the room. Her expression is inscrutable, and it is hard to tell whether or not she has been crying. Somehow, Nicole suspects that she hasn’t. That will probably come later.

“You can come and see him if you want,” Gus says quietly. “He’s not awake though, and I know for a fact he won’t want you seeing him like this.”

“How bad is he?” Wynonna asks, tone surprisingly business-like compared to the last thing she had tried to say. It is the first time anyone has spoken since Gus left, so Nicole knows that Wynonna is not as composed as she sounds.

This, however, proves a difficult thing to quantify, and Gus struggles for an appropriate answer.

“Pale,” she says eventually. “And very weak. No one would blame you if you don’t want to see him like that.”

“It wasn’t for that,” Wynonna replies.

“I know,” Gus says with a nod. “But you do have a choice.”

“It’s not an option,” Waverly says fiercely, as she does with most things. “I want to see him.”

With that, Waverly and Wynonna rise, and Nicole lets them walk ahead of her. Still, she has said nothing since the drive over. Still, no words come to her.

She is the last to enter the room where Curtis is laid out in the bed, wires and tubes connecting him to every imaginable machine, each of which whirs and chirps and hums merrily away to itself as, no doubt, it does something vital to Curtis’ survival.

Gus stands by the door, holding it open for the three girls to walk in. Being first two into the room, Wynonna and Waverly stand at either side of Curtis’ bed. Nicole hovers a few paces away from the side of the bed nearest the door, waiting behind Waverly, who immediately grips at Curtis’ hand where it rests, lifeless, on the blankets.

He looks everything and nothing like Nicole had expected.

He is pale, just as Gus said he would be, and pallid and still. He looks awful, but Nicole had somehow steeled herself for worse. It means that she is unsure how to react, still aware that Curtis is painfully, precariously ill, but not so much so that he looks small and sunken in as if only a few feet from death.

It makes Nicole wonder if he really will survive, which in turn makes her silently curse herself for risking jinxing things. If he dies now, Nicole wonders, would it be because of her? Would it be because of her anyway? Had the stress of taking in lost kids like her taken its toll? Or was it just a purely random twist of fate that had them all congregated at his bedside like this?

There is a window in Curtis’ room and someone has opened it. Outside, the cool spring air smells like cut grass, and the sky is blue and clear. The sun shines in open defiance of the storm within these four walls.

The five of them occupy Curtis’ room for an hour, barely speaking a single word to each other. There are three chairs so Nicole stands until a nurse sees her doing so and fetches another seat for her. She says ‘thank you’ but the nurse is gone before the words even settle.

Curtis doesn’t wake, and the whole afternoon seems kind of futile. Nicole knows that is an awful thought, but she cannot help but wonder if every family in their position feels the same.

Curtis does not know they are here.

They each of them tell themselves that they stay for him but, in truth, they probably stay because there is nowhere else they should be. Were they at home, they would sit in silence there too. Were they to go out, they would walk without speaking. None of them could go to work like this. There was nowhere except the hospital with the strange, unsettling unreality on its shiny floors and white walls.

They would never dream of leaving Curtis at this moment, but it does not actually  _ help _ anyone that they are here. There is simply no better option, only worse options, because were they to leave there would be guilt and fear that, should the worst happen, they would not be around.

So they stay where they are. They sit and they wait and they think.

Nicole tries not to wonder about how and when anyone really loses someone they love. Curtis, right now, is both here and not here. He is all possibility and potential, and his family are all fear and love and hope, but none of them is loss. Not quite yet. And if Curtis were to wake and recover, it would be almost like a bad dream, and no one would think he had gone anywhere at all. But if he were to never wake again, it would be hard to tell if they had lost him now or later or ever at all.

Nicole sits and thinks about the  _ impossibility  _ of it all. No person can ever just be  _ gone _ . Surely that was not possible. Curtis laughed at silly dad jokes and he tended to his tomatoes and he fixed treehouses and he drove Waverly and Nicole wherever they needed to go. It was as if, in this knife edge moment where he both exists and does not, he was realer to Nicole than he had ever, ever been. In the bright light and the cool air, it was as though Curtis was everywhere and nowhere, and as though the feeling of him was sharper and more acute than it had ever, ever been.

It makes Nicole feel a bit like a voyeur, sitting and staring at Curtis’ unconscious form in this moment of vulnerability he absolutely would not want his family to see. She feels like a voyeur towards the rest of the family’s grief, too. She has never, in fact, felt more or less like a part of the family than she does now. 

  
  
  
  


Eventually, nurses filter in to check Curtis’ obs and vitals, prompting everyone else to move to stand at one side of the room.

It also prompts the first exchange of words since they all sat down, with Gus murmuring,

“I’ll need to call the bar and the station to tell them what’s happened and that none of us will be in later.”

Feeling stifled and overwhelmed by all of the people and all of the movement, Nicole says, “I’ll go and do it.”

Gus looks surprised, studying her carefully for a moment, as if seeing her for the first time.

“That’s my responsibility,” Gus says gently, and Nicole suspects she would have said that about anything at the moment.

“Not for my job,” Nicole points out just as softly. “And if I’m calling my job, I might as well call yours. You’re the one that should be here, in case the nurses want to tell us anything.”

Still watching Nicole very closely, Gus asks, “you sure?”

Nicole nods, and Gus touches her upper arm for a moment, holding on just slightly.

“Okay. Thank you sweetheart.”

Nicole nods again, before slipping out of the room and back to the relatives’ room they had used earlier. It is no longer empty, but rather occupied by an elderly woman who seems to be flipping through a magazine without really seeing anything that is written on the pages.

She looks up when Nicole enters, smiles softly, then goes back to pretending to read.

Nicole sits down on the same seat as before, unlocking her phone and putting in the number for the station’s reception desk. She pauses before calling, however, and looks back to the woman.

“Do you mind if I make a phone call?” she asks, not really wanting to interact with anyone, but aware that this woman could be in the exact same position as her. “I can go outside if you want me to.”

The woman looks up again, expression morose even as she smiles. “You go ahead love. You won’t be disturbing me.”

Awkwardly, Nicole murmurs her thanks and calls the number.

It is only as she sits and listens to the dial tone that she realises that this might have been a mistake. She has no idea what she is supposed to say, or how she is going to keep herself together while she says it.

Eventually, someone picks up, but it is not the Sheriff. She does not have the direct dial for his office.

She asks for him and in turn whoever is on the line asks who’s calling.

“It’s Nicole, I’ve been doing some work there.”

“Oh, hi Nicole,” the voice down the line says, but in that moment she simply cannot place who it is. Everything feels distant at the moment, like there is a layer of mud clogging up her thoughts. “I’ll pass you through to him.”

Hold music blares for a moment and the Sheriff picks up.

“Nicole, hello. Do you have some good news for me?”

Nicole freezes. What good news could there possibly be now?

“I, uh…”

“If you didn’t pass, don’t worry. They can be picky. It took Chrissy two tries, although by rights she should have passed on the first, but they made too much of a minor issue.”

Nicole feels a wave nausea, threatening since she found out about Curtis, intensify with a sudden, terrifying surge. For just a second, she thinks she might throw up. She presses her lips together and breathes, angling the phone away so that the Sheriff cannot hear the sound of it.

The lady sat across the room glances up she hears the sudden change in Nicole’s breathing and a flicker of concern seems to pass over her face.

In truth, Nicole had half-suspected the Sheriff might know about Curtis. News of any kind travels so fast here, and she had thought this would be no different. She stays silent long enough to be sure that she won’t be sick, in which time the Sheriff very clearly grows worried.

“Nicole? It’s really no problem if you failed. Is everything alright?”

“I, uh I passed,” Nicole says, voice going high and thick with tears. She battles to push them away, clearing her throat and adding, “but that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Nicole…”

“I’m really sorry, I won’t be able to come to work today. We’re all at the hospital, because Curtis had a bad heart attack. We’re not really sure if he’s going to be okay. We need to be here.”

She hears the Sheriff’s sharp intake of breath, and the sad, pitying way his voice contorts when he speaks again. She’s heard that tone a million times. She’d only just  _ stopped _ hearing it.

“Oh, Nicole. I am so, so sorry,” the Sheriff says. “Don’t you worry about work. You stay up there with the others and you all look after each other. And please tell Gus that if there’s anything she needs, anything at all we can do, then we’ll be up there in a flash.”

“I will, thanks. I just need to tell everyone we won’t be into work later. Gus was going to, but I told her she should stay with Curtis.”

“Does Shorty know?”

“No, I’m going to call him now.”

“No, you leave that to me, okay? You go back to the rest of the family. We can sort out things like that for you.”

Nicole feels her voice tremble again and wills herself to be strong like Gus. “Are – are you sure?”

“Of course I am.”

Nicole tries to thank him, but her voice finally fails her completely. She feels grateful and pitiful and utterly useless for not doing the one thing she said she would.

“Thank you,” she manages to say eventually, voice high and feeble. “I have to go, sorry.”

Quickly, she ends the call and buries her face in her hands. She won’t cry. She  _ won’t. _ She won’t, she won’t, she won’t, she won’t…

She’s no good to anyone if she sits and hides and cries. If she can’t even make two phone calls.

_ This isn’t your pain _ , a voice in the back of her head reminds her again.  _ He isn’t  _ ** _your_ ** _ uncle. You don’t have any right to this grief _ .

But, much like love, Nicole finds she cannot help but feel it.

She wipes away the few little tears that do spill free, and sits back and breathes deeply until she feels as though she has some handle on her emotions again. She still feels perilously sick, but that is something she can handle, so long as she isn’t actually going to be ill.

She waits until she no longer looks completely overwrought before standing. As she does, she realises that the lady is still watching her. 

The lady gives her another smile, this one a little more fortifying than the last.

“My husband had a heart attack,” she says quietly. “Years ago now.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole replies, because it seems like the right thing to say.

“Don’t be, he was quite alright in the end. Had another 20 years together, he’s in his eighties now.”

Nicole nods and smiles. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to listen in to your conversation, but I couldn’t help but hear.”

Nicole nods her understanding. The room is small, and silent. She had known the lady would hear what she said to Chrissy’s dad.

The lady goes on. “I thought you might like to hear that people do recover. I know nothing will  _ really _ help in this moment, but don’t lose all hope.”

“I’ll try,” Nicole says. “Thank you.”

She wants to ask about the lady’s husband now, but hesitates on the basis that he might be in the hospital right now. It is obvious, too, from the woman’s demeanour that this is not a necessary part of their conversation. It is also obvious that the conversation is over.

Nicole leaves and knows she’ll probably never see that lady again.  _ This stuff happens every day _ , she realises as she walks back to Curtis’ room.  _ Every day people come in here and they don’t come back out again. People just get complacent, thinking that it’ll never happen to them _ .

Life suddenly feels bitterly unfair and woefully uncertain.

Things had sometimes felt unjust when she was still with her parents, and she had sometimes felt a little sorry for herself, but nothing had ever seemed as unfair as they do when she walks back into Curtis’ hospital room that afternoon. She enters to see a quietly tearful Waverly sat back at Curtis’ side, Gus with her arms around her youngest niece, and knows that there is absolutely nothing more that can be done.

At six o’clock, and completely ignoring Waverly’s protests, Gus calls Chrissy’s dad and asks if he’ll pick Nicole and Waverly up.

“I want to stay,” Waverly says when Gus hangs up, “I’d rather be here.”

“I know, but we can’t all sit here all night. The hospital won’t allow it.  _ And _ ,” Gus begins pointedly when Waverly starts to argue that Gus shouldn’t be here all night either, “I won’t allow the two of you to be the ones who  _ do _ stay here late. There’s nothing you can do sat here, and your uncle wouldn’t like it. I know it’s hard honey, but you do have to go home at some point. There’s never going to be a good time.”

Waverly does not argue again, but no one misses the pointed, confused glance she sends at Wynonna who, whether by grace of age or something else entirely, seems to have been designated as the one to stay behind. Whether she is happy or not about this is impossible to tell, but she does flash Waverly a sad, guilty look. 

  
  
  
  


It takes the Sheriff half an hour to arrive and, rather than show up at the ward, he calls Nicole to say that he is in the waiting area. “Don’t feel you have to rush out,” he says. “I can wait here as long as you need.”

After the call, however, Gus convinces the girls to leave. A tearful Waverly kisses Curtis on the cheek while a silent, shell-shocked version of Nicole simply gives him a long, careful look and tries not to think about how this might be the last time she ever sees him.

There is every chance he will deteriorate in the night and, understandably, all of the medics are being very tight-lipped about his chances of survival.

Gus sees them both out of the room, stopping in front of the Sheriff who very clearly has no idea what to say. He gives Gus a hug, however, and simply tells her how sorry he is.

Gus thanks him over and over for coming out of his way, and he awkwardly bats the gratitude away every time.

“I can take them back to mine, if you’d prefer,” he says, but already seems to know that this is not what either of the girls wants. “But it’s no trouble driving them home either.”

“I think,” Gus begins, looking between Waverly and Nicole, “the girls probably want to be in their own space right now, but I really,  _ really _ appreciate the offer Randy.”

“I understand, just wanted to let you know our door is always open.”

Gus thanks him again, before hugging Waverly and Nicole in turn.

“You two make sure you try to eat, okay? Even if you don’t want to. There’s bread, pasta, lots of stuff that you can make with no effort. Just try to, okay?”

They both nod obediently, but Nicole thinks that if she eats she really  _ will _ throw up.

Then, just like that, they both trail behind Chrissy’s dad and away from Curtis, both of them with no real idea of what has happened, or what will happen, or why any of it is happening at all.

Perhaps happily, Chrissy is not in the car waiting for them. In one way, it would have been nice to see a familiar face. In another way, it was exhausting even trying to keep things together in front of her dad.

Still, no one really says anything, and the longer Nicole goes without  _ properly _ speaking, the more impossible it seems to be to think of anything even remotely useful to say.

The Sheriff manages to make a little bit of small talk, and to mumble his way through something which should be vaguely comforting regarding how strong Curtis is, but it doesn’t really penetrate the haze that seems to have descended over Nicole’s brain. Both she and Waverly manage to say the right words during every one of the Sheriff’s pauses, but they all know that everyone is just going through the emotions.

Eventually, Chrissy’s dad drops them off, before asking three consecutive times if they’ll  _ definitely _ be okay until Gus gets home.

Privately, Nicole doesn’t think that either of them is even okay right now, but she and Waverly both insist they will be fine, before getting out of the car and heading inside.

The house seems strange as soon as they walk in. It is almost affront, how everything looks exactly the same as it did that morning. Curtis’ book is even still sat on the arm of his chair like a steeple, spine facing the ceiling and pages open so that he does not lose his place.

It feels as though the whole place should have been turned upside down in their absence, like on the television when someone is robbed. Tables should be upturned and vases should be smashed, the flowers scattered out onto the floor amidst a puddle of cold water.

That is how Nicole feels on the inside, and it doesn’t make sense that a huge great crater hasn’t opened up in the McCready’s backyard, threatening to swallow the house and the farm up whole.

Hearing their arrival, Luna dashes to meet them with a happy chirp. It has been a while since she has been left alone this long.

Nicole feels far too tired to indulge her, but this is not the cat’s fault, so she receives some hearty ear scratches for her troubles. Satisfied with this greeting, she turns next to Waverly, who surprises Nicole by scooping the little cat up off the floor.

Delighted by the attention, Luna immediately starts purring when Waverly sits down on the couch and lets her get settled, eventually burying her face in the cat’s long, soft fur as if in search of solace. Luna seems to pick up on the mood and bumps her head against Waverly’s jaw with an inquisitive little  _ mrow _ .

“Yeah,” Waverly murmurs, answering some invented comment from the cat. “It does suck.”

Nicole watches them for a moment, too full of anxious energy to sit down.

Waverly looks up after a few minutes and attempts to flash Nicole a sad smile.

“You can join us, you know,” she says, trying for a joke.

“I think I’m going to make pasta,” Nicole announces quietly, realising that she and Waverly have not spoken once since the parking lot after the driving exam. It feels like an eternity ago. “I’m not really hungry, but Gus said to and I don’t want her to have to cook when she gets in.”

_ At least _ , Nicole thinks,  _ I can make myself useful. _

Then, she decides,  _ I’m not isolating myself. I’m just trying to help out _ .

She goes to the kitchen and, while the water is boiling on the hob, fetches Waverly a glass of water and a cup of tea. She heads back to the kitchen before they can speak again, sure that she will cry if she stops and thinks for too long.

In the end, the pasta she produces must be the most uninspiring in all of history; just some vegan-friendly shells and some sauce from a jar, tomato and Italian herbs.

She brings Waverly a plate but does not even try to eat anything herself. Instead, she sips at some water and ignores the churning in her stomach. She cannot find any more excuses to be up and on the move, because she had washed up as she went along. She curses that decision now, but sits on the couch anyway.

Waverly, on the other hand, eats absently, not thinking or tasting or probably even wanting the food, but simply going through the motions on autopilot. She strokes Luna until the cat jumps from her lap to Nicole’s, presumably for a change of scenery and equal division of attention from both girls. She had always been friendly and affectionate and, always, before Waverly, the best source of comfort Nicole could ask for. 

It is no different now, as she divides her time between Waverly and Nicole, who sit and try for some small talk until the hands on the mantelpiece clock circle round enough times that it just about feels appropriate to go to bed. Waverly washes her plate and Nicole puts the now cool pasta in the fridge, leaving a note on the kitchen table to tell Wynonna and Gus that she made some food for them.

Then, before it is even ten o’clock, Waverly and Nicole head upstairs and get into their pyjamas. Luna follows, waiting patiently as first Nicole, then Waverly uses the bathroom.

Nicole is in her bed when Waverly steps back into the room and shuts the door. She darts about and changes light switches so that the main light is off and the fairy lights are on, just bright enough that she can see her way round and avoid any accidents that might involve stepping or sitting on the cat’s tail. It had happened in Luna’s early days here, and a rather stricken Waverly had thought she might never be forgiven by the cat. It seems silly now that such a little thing had ever mattered so much.

Luna’s appendages are safe tonight, however, as she curls quietly at the foot of the bed and waits for Waverly to climb under the covers.

She has learned that there is more space by Waverly than by Nicole, who more or less takes up the entire length of the mattress when she is sprawled out.

“I don’t think I’m going to sleep,” Waverly whispers when all the lights are finally off.

The moon is high and full that night, and even with the curtains closed the room is brighter than normal.

“Me neither,” Nicole murmurs, arm automatically slipping around Waverly’s shoulders.

“I just didn’t want to have to sit up and stare into space.”

“Me neither,” Nicole repeats, still feeling very much like a ghost operating a human’s body, or a puppet at the end of a set of strings.

“Nicole?” Waverly whispers after a pause.

“Yeah?”

“What if he dies in the night and we’re not there for him?”

Nicole is spared having to actually answer this question because, finally, Waverly’s voice breaks and it seems that her whole body breaks with it.

Waverly inhales in one awful, wracking gasp and exhales again with a heart wrenching, high-pitched sob. It is the final floodgate cracking in two, and with that all of the walls come tumbling down.

Waverly cries. 

She cries and she cries and she  _ cries _ .

It is almost a relief, because Nicole had seen her holding it back, and she had known it was coming, and now it had and finally, this was something Nicole could do. She couldn’t cook proper meals and she couldn’t make phone calls to Shorty’s bar, and she couldn’t make Curtis better, but she could hold Waverly while she sobs.

There is nothing to say, and evidently Waverly does not expect an answer to her question. Instead, Nicole lets Waverly cling to her for dear life, face pressed to Nicole’s shoulder and tears soaking through Nicole’s shirt.

Nicole strokes her fingers through Waverly’s hair, she makes soothing noises, and whispers simply, “I’m here, I got you Waves,” over and over again. 

For a while, it seems as though the tears will never subside but, of course, they do in time.

Waverly cries until she must have no energy left, and Nicole can imagine the heavy, angry sting in her eyes and pounding pain in her head.

Despite her worries, Waverly slips from tears to silence to a light, restless sleep, still tucked uncomfortably against Nicole’s side.

Nicole feels pretty certain that Waverly’s crown must be jutted against the bony part of Nicole’s shoulder, and Waverly had curled in on herself strangely in order to slot against Nicole in the bed. She cannot be even remotely comfortable, but Nicole suspects that she would only sleep fitfully either way.

For Nicole’s part, she cannot sleep at all. She feels exhausted but knows that there is not even a slim chance that she will drift off. Partly there is already an ache in her arm, and her fingers are going numb thanks to Waverly’s weight settled in the crook of her elbow. Mostly, though, she cannot get the image of Curtis lying motionless in a hospital gown out of her head.

She has no hope of knowing how much time passes, but eventually she hears a truck pull up in the drive, and the sound is so painfully familiar it hurts. Normally, that sound heralds the return of Gus and Curtis from the bar, but this time, Curtis is still in bed in the hospital.

Nicole wonders if Gus has stayed behind, knowing all too well how hard it would be to pry her away from Curtis’ side in his hour of need.

She listens closely but for a time cannot tell how many people walk up the porch and into the house. She hears one set of footsteps track across the hall and into the kitchen. There is a pause, then the sound of the fridge opening, some glass bottles rattling and clinking as the door moves. Whoever is home must have found her note.

Nicole can only be sure that both Gus and Wynonna are home when the sound of the buttons on the seldom-used microwave mingles with a quiet set of footsteps on the stairs. They come to a halt outside of Waverly’s bedroom and, for the first time (so far as Nicole knows) since she arrived here, someone quietly opens the door and checks inside.

Nicole had thought that the idea of someone finding her and Waverly in the same bed would always be a terrible, frightening prospect. Right now, however, it seems like the least of her problems. The idea that Curtis might never even  _ know _ that she and Waverly were together is like a knife twisting in Nicole’s side, her guilt sharp and sore and smarting.

The door creaks and then Gus’ face appears, tired and pale already, but positively translucent in the pearly moonlight.

She takes in the sight of both of the girls together, of the cat by Waverly’s feet. If she is shocked (or worse) by what she finds, she gives no indication. She watches Waverly’s chest rise and fall with a sad, tender look on her face, then, with the same expression, moves her gaze to Nicole. Their eyes meet and Gus starts a little, evidently having been unaware that Nicole was awake.

Nicole presses her lips together in some approximation of a grim smile.

She wants to ask if there has been any developments, but she desperately does not want to wake Waverly.

Gus shakes her head as if to convey the same message, pressing a finger to her lips and backing out of the room. If nothing else, however, Nicole has grown skilful at climbing stealthily out of the bed by lifting herself over the low lip of the baseboard.

Even with Waverly sleeping so lightly, Nicole feels confident she can make it out the room without being heard.

Indeed, the only protest she receives is from the cat, who must shift an inch or so when Nicole leaves. On her way out, she makes sure Waverly is now laid out comfortably with the blankets pulled right up to her chin. There is no sense in her being cold.

Nicole also knows that she is running the risk of losing her space to Luna, but she does not particularly care. Waverly and the cat might as well sleep. Nicole knows that she certainly won’t be able to.

She creeps downstairs and into the living room, where she can see Wynonna and Gus moving around each other seamlessly in the kitchen, heating up pasta and pouring out glasses of water.

Gus spots her first and her expression crumples as she bustles out to speak to her.

“I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to check on you both.”

Nicole shakes her head. “You didn’t, I wasn’t sleeping.”

“I know, it’s hard,” Gus says, voice all sympathy and understanding. “But you need to try.”

Nicole nods, knowing full well that Gus will probably choose to sit up all night in the living room rather than going up to the room she usually shares with Curtis.

Their lives were so wholly intertwined. What happened when life unravelled two people like this? How, Nicole wonders, do people go on?

“I uh, I just wondered if there was any news,” Nicole says, feeling completely unqualified to ask such an adult-sounding sentence.

“No, nothing,” Gus tells her. “No change at all.”

“He didn’t wake up?”

“No, but they’re hopeful he’ll come round soon.”

Nicole nods again, and knows that this is not the whole story. She can read between the lines well enough to tell that they are all hopeful that Curtis will wake soon because there is only a narrow window in which he might wake at all.

Nicole has no inherent knowledge that tells her this, she just  _ knows _ .

“It was very good of you to make extra food,” Gus goes on, transparently changing the subject. She pats Nicole on the shoulder, both of them forgetting for a moment that her shirt is still wet with tears. Nicole expects Gus to recoil, but instead she touches the fabric again, palm lingering a tiny bit longer this time. She pulls an odd, thoughtful kind of expression. “What would we do without you, hey?” she asks, quietly, still touching Nicole’s shirt to make it very clear that she is not just talking about a few extra bowls of mediocre pasta, but rather the support she had rather obviously offered Waverly.

_ You’d all be just fine _ , Nicole thinks to herself.  _ Better, probably _ .

She has not yet been able to shake the thought that the stress she and other kids like her must have brought into Curtis’ life had probably contributed to the heart attack.

Gus gives her a gentle smile, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind Nicole’s ear. Then, without another word, she pulls Nicole into a hug, the first she has been offered all day.

Nicole already stands well above Gus, so when the older woman tries to wrap Nicole into the embrace, it is with some small degree of difficulty. Then, after a moment, she tilts her head towards Nicole’s ear and whispers,

“You’ve been a real rock today. I can’t thank you enough. He’ll be really proud of you when he finds out.”

Gus pulls back and Nicole does her level best not to show her the tears building in her eyes.

“Do you mind if I sit down here? Just for a little while. I know I won’t sleep yet, and it’s better that Waverly gets some rest, rather than me waking her up creeping back into the room.”

Gus pats at Nicole’s forearm. “You don’t have to ask for something like that. You go sit down on the couch.”

  
  
  
  


Perhaps sensing that Nicole just needs a little bit of time to herself, Gus and Wynonna sit together in the kitchen to eat. Both of them take very small portions and seem to take an eternity chewing through each mouthful. 

They have a quiet, murmured conversation, voices so low that Nicole cannot hear them. 

She sits in one corner of the couch, fiddling with the tassels on one of Gus’ handmade blankets. Everything here is a symbol of homeliness and solace, and it has all gone from foreign to comforting to completely painful to consider. 

When she first came out here to Alberta, Nicole had never really thought she would start on a path to home. She thought she was being dragged away from home, rather than set down on her feet to meander towards a place she wanted to call her own. By the time she realised it was happening, the whole family had wriggled under her skin, even Wynonna with her abrasive sense of humour and blazing honesty. Gus and Curtis had stepped up and stepped closer and they had become the guiding lights Nicole had really needed. 

She hadn’t been able to admit back then that she  _ did _ need anything adults to guide her, but she could admit it now. She had thought she was better off alone, or at the very least that she was doing just fine without anyone to guide her or help her out. 

But since she had been here she had realised that, not only was it okay to need that support, it was even better to want to it. But now, after all this change, having Curtis hanging on a thread like this felt like someone had gouged something out of Nicole’s own chest. 

She sits and thinks it all over when Wynonna appears with a mug. “Gus made you hot chocolate.” 

Nicole smiles. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me, I’m just the messenger.” 

“Thanks for all your effort passing it over.” 

Wynonna smiles and rolls her eyes. “Genuinely nice to know some things never change.” 

“At least something has to be the same, right? Even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Right,” Wynonna says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. Nicole is none too sure either. Everything is different now. It just has to be. 

“Listen,” Wynonna goes on, clearing her throat and rubbing her palm back and forth across the back of her neck. “Thank you, seriously. And ‘seriously’ isn’t something I say very often.” 

Nicole chuckles. “That I know.” 

“But this time, I’m not kidding. You looked after my little sister today, and you made food for my aunt.” 

“You don’t have to say the food thing. I know it was terrible.”

“It was fine. More than any of us would have had if you hadn’t stepped up. So yeah, please. Just let me say ‘thank you’.” 

“Okay. Accepted, even if not necessary.” 

“Look I know we joke around a lot, and we kind of give each other hell, but I am glad you’re here. You’re good for my sister, and I know you love my aunt and uncle. Gus told me you looked out for Waverly while she was upset. Anyone who does that stays in my good books. Waverly doesn’t know how important she is to me. I’m scared of what this will do to her.”

“I’m scared of what it will do to all of you. But I’ve got Waverly, and I’ve got you too.”

Wynonna chuckles, “alright kiddo. You can’t single-handedly carry all the adults on those big ol’ Atlas shoulders.”

“Nerd,” Nicole says with a little snort; her first genuine laugh since before they’d gone to the hospital.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Sure does,” Nicole admits, still smiling. 

“And, with that - far too much mushy stuff for my liking - I’m going to pretend to go upstairs and get some sleep.”

“Okay. Give it a try. I will too soon.” 

Wynonna heaves a sigh. “See what tomorrow brings, huh?”

“It’s all we can do, I guess.” 

Wynonna nods and gives her a sad smile. “Night nerd.” 

She meanders off, creeping up the stairs and looking completely lost and distant as she does so. 

“And then there were two.”

Nicole snaps her gaze over to the archway between the kitchen and the living room. Gus is standing there, watching Nicole carefully and clutching onto her own mug. After a moment, she crosses the room and sits on the other side of the couch. 

“I’m not about to be totally hypocritical and force you to do something I myself can’t face right now, but I really would be happier if I could persuade you to go back to bed and even try and have a little doze.”

“I will, I promise. Do you want to be alone? I can sit in the kitchen, if you’d prefer.”

“Don’t even think of it. If I’d wanted that I’d have stayed there myself, rather than forcing you out of the room,” Gus says and her tone is simple and honest. “Now, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to tell me the truth, okay?” 

Nicole would worry what was coming, but Gus’ voice has a little of her normal bite and sarcasm in it. Nicole is used to that sound, and knows that Gus is about to ask a pretty simple question.

“Sure.” 

“Did you eat any of that food you cooked earlier?” 

“That bad, huh?” Nicole jokes, deflecting for a moment.

“Perfectly fine given the circumstances. And not what I asked.” 

“I didn’t feel up to it,” Nicole admits, sending a pointed look in Gus’ direction, designed to be a question:  _ how did you know?! _

Gus gives a little chortle, blowing on the surface of her hot chocolate. “Nicole,” she begins, “when I first got you here, you were a little wisp of a thing compared to how you are now, and it took me days before you’d eat much of anything at all. There may be a lot of things I don’t know about this life, but I know how my loved ones wear their stress.” 

“Sorry,” Nicole murmurs, picking up her hot chocolate in open defiance of the swirling sick feeling in her belly. “The last thing I want is for you to worry about me. I’ll try - really.” 

“I’m not trying to force you to do anything,” Gus says patiently. “Don’t make yourself ill. And the day I can get you and my nieces to realise that I’ll always, always worry about the three of you - even when you’re just fine - is the day I’ll know that someone actually listens to me in this house.” 

Of course, Gus is well aware that she commands the utmost respect and obedience under this very roof, but Nicole understands that there are some things she repeats endlessly without much success. 

Nicole says nothing, just blows on her drink and psychs herself up to take a sip. She does so a moment later, ready to bolt to the bathroom at a moment’s notice. The nausea intensifies, but for now her body behaves itself.

She looks up from her mug to find Gus watching her carefully.

“Put that down sweetheart,” she says gently. “If you’re not feeling well, don’t make it worse.” 

Silently, Nicole obeys. Tearfully, she whispers, “sorry.” 

She feels Gus’ hand against her back, rubbing in small circles. 

“Hey, you get upset if you need to get upset, yeah?” 

Feeling like a child, Nicole screws her eyes shut and shakes her head emphatically. 

“Nicole,” Gus says, “you do know, don’t you, that at times like these, it’s us - more specifically me - that takes care of you, don’t you?” 

Another fierce shake of the head meets this statement. 

“Don’t think, just because this is one of the worst moments of my life, that I can’t make space to  _ see _ you, honey. I know how brave you’ve been today for all of us. But you don’t have to do that.”

Yet again, Nicole shakes her head, eyes still squeezed shut against her tears. “Yes, I do.” 

“Why?” Gus asks and the simple question takes Nicole by surprise. “Why do you think that?” 

“It’s what he, both of you, deserve. I owe it to you all, after everything you’ve done for me,” Nicole manages to say, voice still wavering, but stronger for now. “I know now, really I do, that you guys see me as family, but I’m not, am I? Not in that way.” 

“And do you think that for even one second I’d see your pain as lesser than my nieces’?”

“Not, no - not like that. Not like you wouldn’t think my feelings would matter. Just that, well, I’ve been here like two seconds. It just feels bad, like I’m co-opting something that isn’t mine yet.”

“Then start getting that out of your mind. I see you, honey, I see you trying to stand back and give the rest of us more space. I see you trying to do things for me and for my other girls. I know how it helps, trust me. I know how helping others helps. And if that’s what you need right now, then you do it. Lord only knows what I’d have done if I hadn't known Waverly had you tonight. But you get to feel it too, okay? As and when you’re ready.”

Nicole looks at Gus pointedly, and the other woman laughs a little. 

“Stop seeing through everyone else so easily,” she says, pretending to tell her off. “I’m only telling you all of this from experience.” 

“We’ll help each other, right? All five of us.” 

Upon realising that Nicole’s head count also includes Curtis, Gus’ smile grows a little sad, but she sounds as though she truly believes it when she says, “yes, you’re right.” 

  
  
  
  


The next morning, Gus calls up the school and explains Nicole and Waverly’s impending absence from their classes. No one really knows how long this will all go on, but there are no illusions that any of the family are even going to consider trying to turn up at work or school. 

They all wake the next morning filled with thrumming, relentless anxiety, and a desperate urge to be back at Curtis’ bedside. 

Gus calls the hospital for an update while she forces Waverly and Wynonna to eat some toast, and turns a very obvious blind eye to the fact that Nicole only manages to drink a cup of tea. 

“Right,” she says to the girls when she hangs up, “there’s been no change, but they want us up there so the doctor can discuss a few things with us.” 

Both Waverly and Wynonna freeze with slices of toast in their hands. Under any other circumstances it would look funny.

“That can’t be good, can it?” Wynonna asks, a little more like her old self after a few hours of sleep. 

“That’s all they said,” Gus tells her, “so I suggest we get ready and get up there before the doctor does the rounds.” 

She gives a businesslike little clap, almost as if she is herding Waverly and Nicole out the door for school. 

They all make it to the hospital in time to meet with the doctor, who delivers the blow that Curtis may have suffered one or even two very minor cardiac issues and irregularities during the night.

“Why didn’t you call us?” Wynonna demands when the news has been imparted, a little of her normal fire now shining through again. 

“Very, very minor incidents such as these do happen. I understand how serious it sounds, but the original heart attack is still our main cause for concern. However, it’s becoming more and more obvious that we need to consider just how we address the issue head-on. Curtis is stable but isn’t really improving how we’d like. We administered clot-dissolving drugs in order to treat the initial infarction, and we were happy when he showed some signs of wakefulness during our morning rounds, although he’s still very tired. But we think the best course of action is to consider some form of coronary angioplasty -” 

“That’s a bypass, isn’t it?” Waverly asks suddenly, voice sharp with fear and urgency.

“It’s a little different to a bypass.”

“That’s open heart surgery?” Waverly goes on, pressing the point. 

“The bypass, yes. But we think Curtis is a good candidate for angioplasty, which basically involves inserting some little balloons into arteries in order to improve blood flow. It’s far less invasive. We also think this is a good time to do this procedure.”

“He’s awake now, you said?” Gus asks. 

“We decided to try and rouse him on our rounds earlier, yes. We wanted to leave him to rest and recover yesterday, because that was clearly what his body needed, but we needed him to interact with us this morning.” 

“And now?” 

“When we left, he was sleeping again, but we would recommend discussing this with him while I’m on the ward.” 

Nicole watches as Gus tenses her jaw. “Well then, I’d better go and have the conversation, hadn’t I?” 

“Can we - ” Waverly begins, but it is obviously a somewhat futile question. 

“This is something your uncle and I need to talk about sweetheart.” 

Gus comes back a little while later, already looking so tired that she seems ready to end the day again. 

“Your uncle woke up for a little while,” she announces when she sits down, looking carefully from Wynonna to Waverly to Nicole. “I spoke to him, and I told him how worried you all were.” 

“How did he seem?” Waverly asks quickly.

“Still not well, but he seemed himself. Not quite sure what all the fuss was.” 

All three of the girls laugh nervously. 

“Now you know as well as I do how much he hates hospitals and doctors and surgeries. But he knows he needs to have this done. Because it’s to do with his heart, they’ve got an emergency slot for him in theatre in an hour, and they kept him nil by mouth this morning just in case. They’re going to prep everything, but if there’s time you’ll be able to see him.” 

For the first time in nearly 24 hours, Nicole feels as though she can breathe properly. Surely, if Curtis was awake and talking, he was out of the woods now. And surely, if they were considering the non-invasive surgery, then that meant that he would be alright long-term too. 

The mood in the relatives room (once again their own private space for now) seems a lot more buoyant than earlier. 

But, in reality, Nicole should have known it was too good to be true. 

After what could only have been ten minutes, an alarm sounds in a distant room across the ward, and for a moment or two all four women studiously pretend that the commotion is not something they need to concern themselves with. 

It is sad for whoever is experiencing such an emergency, but Curtis,  _ their  _ wonderful Curtis, is stable and he’s getting ready for some reparative surgery, and he’s going to be fine. 

After a while though, there is no denying that the epicentre of the movement seems to be right near the part of the ward where Curtis is. 

Then, when they can all bear the sense of foreboding no more, Gus moves to the glass pane in the door and peers through the inner blinds. Her expression shifts from tight worry to outright fear in the space of a millisecond, and she bolts out of the door in an instant.

“Oh God,” Waverly gasps and all three girls find themselves hot on Gus’ heels. 

By the time they get to the room, however, Curtis is already gone. 

A nurse, one they haven’t seen before, appears at Gus’ side, gripping at her upper arm with a soft, sympathetic look on her face. 

“Mrs McCready? Your husband has had another incident. They’ve taken him into surgery right away. He’s in the very best hands.”

Nicole only hears the words as an echo in her ears, feeling shell-shocked to have gone from the first deceptive stirrings of hope back to blind fear again. 

Beside her, Waverly has tears running down her cheeks, and Nicole immediately pulls her into a hug. 

“It’ll be okay,” she whispers in Waverly’s ear. “He’ll be okay.” 

“You don’t know that,” Waverly whispers back, voice scratchy and full of tears. “None of us know that.” 

  
  
  
  


They spend the next couple of hours back in the dreaded relatives room, barely moving except to force themselves to drink water or tea or coffee. 

On a couple of occasions, either Wynonna or Gus goes to the nurses’ station to ask if there has been any developments, but each time they are simply told that he is still in surgery.

Nicole understands that they cannot say anything at this stage, but she also understands Wynonna and Gus’ impulse to ask the questions. 

Eventually, however, a doctor slips into the room at around lunchtime, although time seems to have lost all sort of decent structure. 

“Mrs McCready?” the doctor asks. “I’ve got some news about your husband.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean...I wasn't _really_ gonna give it away after just one chapter, right? 
> 
> If you saw my twitter poll earlier, I do still have the outcome written, I'm just reaaally curious when I write stories about how people think the plot points are going to end. Feel free to tell me in the comments whether you think Curtis is alright or not! That _will_ be coming next week, I promise.
> 
> As ever, your feedback means the world.
> 
> Have a lovely week and take care.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter one as we wrap this fic up.
> 
> Not long left on this one now, but I hope you're all enjoying the ride. 
> 
> But now, time to find out what happens to Curtis. Spoiler alert: I don't keep you waiting.

Curtis McCready dies as we all must, one day. But his time is not cut like a single, dangling thread, in the dew-soft spring weather of the year of Nicole’s graduation.

In the end, his condition proves too urgent for the procedure that had been described to the family that morning, and he undergoes a serious, open heart procedure that, ultimately, saves his life.

He wakes a while later, his family scattered around the hospital bedroom.

He blinks against the bright afternoon light, looking disorientated and bemused, almost as though he cannot quite work out what the four women around his bedside are doing by sitting about and waiting for him to come to.

When he blinks awake, the first face that must swim into sight is Gus’, and he tilts his head to look at her, as she sits, straight-backed and sombre, at his bedside, still displaying a remarkable amount of composure and aplomb.

Curtis smiles and Gus smiles right back, lifting a hand and touching it softly to the crown of his head.

“You gave us a bit of a scare there love,” she says by way of greeting, tone matching the way someone else might describe an only somewhat noteworthy shower of rain. Her eyes grow misty for the first time since all of this began, belying the mock-casual note to her voice.

“Gave myself a bit of a scare too,” Curtis replies, words sticking like glue at the back of his throat. He gets them all out on the second try, however, and is perfectly understandable, if weak and sickly-sounding. He attempts a laugh that sounds a little like a chesty cough, and it makes Nicole want to wince in sympathy, but none of that matters because Curtis is awake and he’s alive and he is  _ laughing _ .

His eyes drift from Gus to Wynonna standing above her, then to Waverly, sat at the other side of the bed, and finally to Nicole who occupies her station a few feet behind Waverly.

“Hey, come on now angel, no tears,” Curtis murmurs, and Nicole realises that Waverly must have started crying once again. Sure enough, she drops her head to her uncle’s shoulder in the closest approximation of a hug possible with all of the tubes and wires tentacled out around Curtis.

He is just about able to get his arm around Waverly’s shoulder and, as he does so, he murmurs, “I’m alright now. I don’t want you crying over me.”

Nicole thinks she hears Waverly squeak out an apology, but it is hard to tell under the circumstances.

Then, with one hand clasped between Gus’ and the other wrapped around Waverly, Curtis McCready looks up and gives Nicole a careful once-over, followed by a soft, fond smile.

“And what about you, my girl, still steady as a rock?” he asks, even though he must see the tears welling in Nicole’s eyes.

She hadn’t wanted to cry while this was Curtis’ suffering, hadn’t wanted to even think of her own pain while Curtis and his relatives had so much of their own to contend with. But now that Curtis is alive and awake and almost certainly going to be okay, it is hard not to cry because  _ he almost wasn’t any of those things _ . 

“I don’t know what I’d have done without these three yesterday and again this morning,” Gus tells him, voice all but creaking with pride and as-yet unshed tears. “I’ve been so proud of them.”

Curtis beams. “I’m always proud of my girls,” he declares, taking extra care to look at each of the four women in turn.

“Well,” Gus says, sniffing a little, “quite.” 

  
  
  
  


As with any such reunions, this one is staggered. They have a few more moments uninterrupted with Curtis until the first set of nurses and doctors arrive, all needing to carefully check his obs and assess his state of health.

They must also update Curtis and Gus on everything that has happened, and this seems to be the moment that Gus deems it time for Waverly and Nicole to take a break from all that has occurred.

Against a small flurry of protests from Waverly (Nicole still feeling that she would be overstepping far too many lines by expressing the same sentiment, no matter how keenly she feels it), Gus packs the two girls out of the room with a few ten dollar bills and the instruction to find some food for all four women at the cafeteria.

She then looks imploringly at Wynonna, who rather quickly and exceptionally unconvincingly decides that she should use the bathroom.

The three girls leave the room together, but their paths quickly diverge as Wynonna chooses the nearest set of bathrooms, while Waverly and Nicole must take the elevator up a couple of storeys to buy any food.

Even with relief surging through her, Nicole does not much feel like she wants anything to eat.

In fact, Nicole finds herself struggling to hold on to any one feeling at all for very long. It feels a little like channel-hopping on a television, with the added problem that half of the pictures are just static. She knows she is relieved. She knows that this is mostly a good feeling. But, mixed up with that good feeling, is 24 hours’ worth of other, less positive feelings she had not allowed herself to acknowledge.

But, demanding to be felt, these things had not simply dissipated when she cast them to one side. Rather, it was as though they had queued up, and now they were ready to tear the door down.

A tell-tale, inescapable pressure builds in her throat, and she feels almost as though she cannot breathe properly.

She feels the exact instant that the wave breaks over her.

“I’m uh,” she begins, but her voice is pulled taut like a bowstring and full sentences prove to be impossible. Inarticulately she mutters, “bathroom. See you in the cafeteria,” before bolting away from Waverly and into the nearest WC she can find.

Thankfully, it is empty and all the stalls are unoccupied. She chooses the one at the far end of the room, the whole line of dividers juddering a moment later when, movements unchecked, she accidentally slams the cubicle door shut and slides the bolt across with an almighty shriek.

She sits on the edge of the toilet seat, elbows on knees, head in her hands. 

For a minute, her lungs forget what is necessary, what must come next, then, almost in desperation, her next inhalation manifests like metal; the sound like rusty cogs grinding, a taste almost like iron, the rush of it ice cold down her throat. 

Once that first gasp fills her chest, it is difficult to remember how she ever used to breathe without sobbing too.

Crying has never before felt like this.

She feels her fingers shake where they grip at her forehead, where the tips dig into the skin at her hairline. She feels her chest constrict and her stomach clench with nausea. She feels her head rush and, for a few more pained inhalations she is blissfully ignorant about how inadequate the air feels in her lungs. Then, the realisation that she cannot breathe properly hits, and her whole body panics. This feeling is so new to her, something she has rarely (if ever) felt before, and she has no idea how far it would progress had it not been for the sound of the WC door opening and a quiet set of footsteps tracking inside.

Nicole immediately does her best to fall silent, pressing her lips together and breathing deeply through her nose.

“Nicole?” Waverly’s voice drifts through the silence. “I can leave you alone…if – if you want me to. But I wanted to check you’re okay. I mean. None of us are  _ okay _ okay. But I was worried.”

Behind the door, Nicole fights to get her emotions back in check. She is scared that if she speaks her voice will break, and she doesn’t want anyone else to have to take care of her right now. In fact, it should be the opposite way round; she should still be taking care of Waverly.

“I’ll um, I’ll just go. Leave you be,” Waverly’s voice sounds again, all sad and small and a little bit hurt. “I’ll see you out there. In the uh, the cafeteria, I mean.”

Hastily, Nicole wipes her hands over her cheeks in a brash gesture that makes the skin on her face sting. She probably looks a mess, but there is nothing much she can do about it. When she stands, she still feels weak and light-headed and woozy. All the same, she opens the door of the stall and steps outside. Waverly, who had turned away, stops at the sound and looks over her shoulder. She seems to brighten for a second, then her face falls when she sees the obvious signs of tears on Nicole’s face. She might have wiped them away, but her eyes are still red and they feel pretty swollen.

Nicole makes a point of washing her hands even though it was obvious she had not come in here to use the toilet.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice still weak. “Sorry I just needed a minute.”

Carefully, Waverly steps closer. She stands at Nicole’s side, far closer than most interactions ever call for.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs and the apology takes Nicole by surprise. Waverly sounds tired and defeated; genuinely doleful and apologetic.

Nicole dries her hands on a paper towel, before arranging some baby hairs at Waverly’s hairline with the tips of her fingers, then kissing the spot where the thin, wispy hairs now sweep backwards.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, trying to sound light and teasing. “I’m the one that ran off.”

“I never really ask how  _ you _ are, do I?” Waverly says, couching the words as a question but sounding rather as though she has already drawn her own conclusion. She sounds tearful, and Nicole is keen not to make Waverly cry when she has already done enough of that to last the whole year through.

Nicole furrows her brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You just looked after everyone else yesterday. I haven’t even said thank you yet.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

Waverly touches her cool, soft fingers to Nicole’s cheeks, which only serves to highlight how red and hot Nicole’s skin feels. “I should have made sure you were alright too.”

“He’s your uncle, Waves. You needed me, and I was here. That’s all I want to be able to do for you.”

“He means something to you, too,” Waverly points out. “Please, talk to me. It’s okay if – ”

“I’m fine,” Nicole interjects gently. “Honestly. It’s just the relief that he’s awake. I want to make sure you, Gus, and Wynonna are okay. And Curtis too of course.”

Waverly does not look convinced, but she opens up her arms for a hug – one Nicole happily accepts – and she doesn’t say anything more about Nicole’s tears. 

  
  
  
  


With some amount of creativity based on the limited offering of questionable hospital food (even the stuff that isn’t for the patients), they manage to find enough food for everyone and take it back to Curtis’ room.

When they get back, they find the room empty, save for Curtis himself, who is laid back with his eyes shut. They flicker open when he hears the girls in the room, however, and he smiles at them both as they set a bag of food containers down on top of a small table.

“Where’s Gus?” Waverly asks, voice low.

“Thought of yet another question for the poor nurses,” Curtis says with a wry smile. “I’ve told her not to fuss but, well, you know. I don’t want any of you to fuss.”

“But we love you Uncle Curtis,” Waverly chirps in a somewhat overt show of cheeriness. She sits down in her usual place by the bed and pats gently at Curtis’ hand. “She’s fussing because she cares about you.”

“I know,” Curtis says, wonky smile still in place. “But I’m alright now.”

“How do you feel?”

“Fine, angel. Just fine.”

With Waverly angled towards Curtis, Nicole cannot see the expression on the other girl’s face but she can picture it well enough. She would bet money that Waverly has her eyebrows raised in pointed incredulity, expertly mixing in a little dash of disdain to really prove her point.

Curtis flashes an expression of mock contrition first at Waverly, then at Nicole, with whom he shares a playful look that seems to say  _ ‘well, I’ve certainly been told _ ’.

Nicole smiles, feeling the happiness tug at her lips but still aware that the emotion does not quite go beneath her skin yet. Things still feel fragile, the family’s grip on safety and security tenuous at best, and although some unnamed, unspoken instinct tells her that Curtis really  _ is _ going to be okay, she doesn’t want to grow complacent.

“I feel tired, and sore,” Curtis amends when Waverly apparently doesn’t back down. When he speaks, however, he is still looking at Nicole. “But I’m more interested in how the two of you are feeling. You look done in,” he adds gently, carefully casting eyes over Nicole’s face and making it clear that he is talking to her specifically.

“Something kept me awake last night,” Nicole jokes, and Curtis chuckles.

“Very inconsiderate of them, whoever was responsible for keeping you from sleeping.”

“Very selfish,” Nicole agrees softly, her heart not really in the joke.

“Nicole was amazing,” Waverly chimes in. “She called her work and got Chrissy’s dad to fill Shorty in, so that Gus didn’t have to. She made dinner for everyone last night when Gus sent her and me home. She looked after me, checked in on Gus when she and Wynonna got home.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Nicole counters, not really sure how any of that stuff counted as ‘amazing’. She had barely kept herself together since the news about Curtis, and she had fallen apart altogether not half an hour before.

“Well, it sure sounds like you did,” Curtis says easily, looking so proud it makes Nicole feel overwhelmed. “I can’t think of anyone else better to look after the rest of the family, although you have to let the rest of the family look after you too.”

Nicole nods, biting at her lip. When she doesn’t speak again Curtis adds, with another smile, “ you don’t have to keep your distance, either, you know.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “There’s not a lot of room in here.” 

“Well, you don’t have to confine yourself to the sidelines, although I can’t imagine you’re going to be one to fuss.”

Waverly tuts. “Uncle Curt - ”

“I know, I know,” Curtis teases, “it’s because you care. I think, however, that Nicole has never fussed over anything for a day in her life.”

In truth they all know that Curtis is only joking, that he deeply appreciates all the love he has been shown and will be shown in the days and weeks to follow. But, deep down, Nicole can understand that he is probably as baffled by all the fuss on his behalf as she would be if anyone fussed over her. He probably  _ would _ appreciate the sort of quiet calm he always likes best, especially when he is out walking his farm and tending his crops. 

“I can’t make any promises,” she quips back, thinking of how desperately she had wanted to fuss over Waverly last night if she could have. 

“Tell me,” Curtis says, changing the subject, “did I ruin your celebrations yesterday?” 

Yesterday seems so far away now, that Nicole simply blinks dumbly at him for a moment. 

“Your license? I’ve no doubt you got it.”

“Oh,” Nicole replies, smiling about the news for perhaps the first time. It still doesn’t matter, not really, but at least it something else to be happy about now. “I did, yeah.” 

Despite his precarious situation, Curtis grins. 

“I knew you would,” he tells her, looking proud and pleased. Then, however, the expression fades. “But I bet you haven’t been able to take much joy in it.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Nicole says quickly, shaking her head dismissively. “It wasn’t important. It wasn’t a big deal. It just means I can drive around and can help out more.” 

“Of course it’s a big deal.”  This comes from Waverly, who whirls around to stare at Nicole, looking nonplussed at her reaction. “I saw your papers. You made, like, no errors. You did an awesome job.” 

“My niece speaks sense,” Curtis interjects, and Waverly pokes her tongue out slightly at Nicole. 

“See? I’m right,” she says, voice singsong and playful. 

Nicole shrugs and grins. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

“We’ll have a party for you both,” Waverly goes on, undeterred. “A ‘congratulations’ party for you, Nicole, and a ‘welcome home’ party for Uncle Curtis. I’ll make the party hats.”

Nicole says, “see, I know you’re kidding but - ”

“She’s not,” a voice interrupts, and they all look to the doorway to see Wynonna and Gus standing there. Wynonna adds, “seriously, she’s not. It’s not an empty threat, she will make hats. Trust me.” 

“I don’t see how that’s a  _ threat _ ,” Waverly counters primly. 

“It’s a threat because if you make them, I’ll have to wear one.” 

Wynonna strides into the room, twisting and manoeuvring her body around the veritable slalom of equipment and bags and jackets cluttering up the room. Nicole is surprised they haven’t been told off yet. 

As she passes, Wynonna gently chucks Nicole on the shoulder. “But, much as it pains me, she’s also kinda right. Congrats, stepkid. I’m sorry I didn’t say it yesterday.” 

“I’d say you had your priorities right,” Nicole quips, quite literally batting Wynonna’s hand away and miming a fake punch back in her direction. 

“Something that is rarely said to me,” Wynonna declares grandly, tongue metaphorically very much in cheek. 

“I can’t guarantee I’ll ever have cause to say it again.”

“Oh I promise you you won’t,” Wynonna jokes. “I very rarely have priorities and I make a habit of never getting them right.” 

Visibly rolling her eyes, Gus sits down at the foot of Curtis’ bed. “Some things never change, do they love?” 

Curtis smiles. “Oh, I wouldn’t want them to.” 

  
  
  


After all the upheaval, Curtis mostly snoozes the rest of the day away. He seems pretty stable, and even Waverly seems to lose the last of her anxiety that his health might decline again unexpectedly. Every time a nurse or doctor comes to check his vitals and his obs, they report that they are happy with all the readings. The operation seems to have done its job, and for the first time in a day, Nicole  _ breathes _ . 

The four women sit around in Curtis’ room, whispering quietly when he sleeps or, in Nicole’s case, dozing off too for an hour when the tiredness becomes unbearable.

Curtis awakes at one point in the mid-afternoon to hear a quiet but fraught negotiation between Waverly and Gus to ascertain when exactly Waverly and Nicole should go back to school. 

“How will I concentrate anyway?” Waverly points out, and as she does so, Nicole, who is alternating between quietly observing the conversation and watching over Curtis, notes the man’s eyes flicker open. He blinks, still a little disoriented every time he wakes in the hospital room, and then seems to come to fully. It is the first time he has properly seemed to take everything in since that morning, and it is good to see him alert again. 

“Waverly I don’t want to push you honey, but your exams are coming up and your uncle won’t want you missing classes at this point in the year. He’s going to be okay. I can feel it, and you can too, can’t you?” 

“I can’t just go back like everything’s fine.”

“No one’s going to think any the less of you for carrying on, Waverly.”

“Least of all, me,” Curtis says, clearing his throat. Then, he adds, “but, this must have been upsetting for the girls. For all of you.” 

Gus nods. “I know. I’m not saying you have to rush back in tomorrow,” she says, looking at Waverly. “But I’m going to need to let the school know before closing time.” 

“The day after tomorrow,” Waverly pleads and over the course of the day her tiredness has begun to show beneath her eyes. She might have slept last night but Nicole knows firsthand that it was not restful. Nicole herself must have seen every hour on the clock, but Waverly stayed asleep, tossed and turned, and dreamed fitfully. 

Nicole cannot think of anything worse than facing school, and all the questions that will come from their peers, tomorrow. 

Gus glances at Nicole. “Just one day. Please. I’m so tired. I mean...I know we all are...but...”

Gus nods, watching Nicole. “You do need some rest.” 

“But,” Curtis says, “there’s one condition. You don’t spend all day up here watching me.” 

“We’re not going to leave you here on your own!” Waverly protests, scandalised. 

“I’ve been asleep all day. I’ll be asleep all of tomorrow, if I still feel like this. They’ll no doubt move me to the ward anyway, and then you’ll have to obey visiting hours. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t got to come up here in the evening and stop me dying of boredom, rather than a heart attack.” Curtis meets Nicole’s eye, his own twinkling playfully. “You’ll talk some sense into my niece, won’t you? And then you’ll drive her up here tomorrow night after dinner.”

He grins and Nicole’s matches it with one of her own. 

“Sure.”

Curtis winks. “That’s what I like to hear.” 

  
  
  
  


The next day, Waverly reluctantly obeys Gus’ orders that she stay at home. Gus herself goes up to the hospital, and she sends Wynonna on a mission to buy groceries, wildly overexaggerating the state of the family’s supplies by saying, ‘we’ve got almost  _ nothing _ to eat, you know.’

When it is just Waverly and Nicole left in the house, Waverly surprises Nicole by ushering her out of the bedroom and telling her not to come back under any circumstances. 

“I have a secret project,” Waverly declares grandly, and Nicole can tell that the other girl is desperate for her to beg for information.

Too stubborn for anything of the sort, Nicole simply shrugs, sticks her hands in the pockets of her sweatpants, and says, “okay. Suit yourself.” 

With that decided, she steals a quick kiss and saunters off down the stairs.

In truth, Nicole is exceptionally curious about what Waverly could possibly be diverting herself with after the events of the week.

All is revealed an inordinately long period of time later, when Waverly enters the living room, something hidden behind her back. Nicole, sprawled on the couch and hopping between TV channels, does her best not to look too intrigued.

All the same, Waverly is genuinely shy and nervous, and Nicole really,  _ really _ loves her for it.

“So, uh, you gotta promise you won’t laugh at me,” Waverly declares, cheeks tinged an endearing shade of pink. 

Nicole feigns indignation. “Would I? Have I  _ ever _ ?”

Laughing, Waverly says, “yes. You have. And you will again.” 

“Not this time though,” Nicole says, dropping the joke and sitting up properly on the couch. “So hit me with it.” 

“You better be sure, because this is literally the  _ worst _ thing I’ve ever done.” 

Nicole quirks her eyebrow. “Want to bet?”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Waverly responds, before revealing what is hidden behind her back. 

She steps closer and drops a handmade, very  _ rustic _ card onto Nicole’s lap. Waverly is actually pretty good at drawing, but objectively Nicole could, if she wanted to, admit that this wasn’t her best.

In Nicole’s eyes, however, it was still perfect; a piece of A4 card folded and turned horizontally, the cover even featured a little sketch of her behind the wheel of one of the McCready’s trucks, Waverly lounging in the shotgun seat. 

‘Congratulations’ it declares at the top, the letters coloured in rainbow shades. 

Nicole flips the card open and reads the message inside - words declaring Waverly’s pride, as well as her apologies that Nicole didn’t get a better celebration - before looking back up to Waverly, words utterly failing her.

“I know it’s bad,” Waverly begins, “but I didn’t have time to go to the shop  _ before  _ your exam, and hey, I didn’t get my old glitter glue out from when I was a kid, so that's something to be grateful for!” 

“It’s perfect, thank you,” Nicole says, before promptly bursting into loud, uncontrollable tears. 

For a moment, Waverly looks perfectly, prettily horrified and shellshocked, and had Nicole not been crying she would have laughed at the expression. 

Instead, she covers her face with her hands and carries on crying. 

Eventually, after gathering herself together, Waverly says, “Nicole…?”

Between her tears, Nicole manages to apologise. “Sorry,” she repeats, “I’m being stupid.” 

“I know it was a bad card,” Waverly says, trying for a joke, “but it’s not  _ that _ bad.” 

“You should have used the glitter glue,” Nicole tells her, still in floods of tears, and the comment - completely unexpected even by Nicole herself - shocks them both into silence for a moment. 

Then, Waverly bursts into loud, ungraceful laughter, and Nicole follows suit, finding a strange medium between laughing and crying. 

“Hey, come here,” Waverly says after a while, pulling Nicole closer and letting her cry, just as Nicole had let Waverly cry earlier in the week. “He’s okay. I have to keep telling myself that too.” 

“I’m being stupid,” Nicole repeats.

Waverly hushes her gently. “You’re not, crying’s not stupid.” 

“It’s not crying.” 

“Then what’s so stupid?”

“ _ Me _ crying.” 

“What…”

“Me crying when he’s  _ your _ uncle - Wynonna’s uncle - Gus’ husband. Me crying  _ now _ ,” Nicole says, voice muffled against Waverly’s sweater. "Now that he's alright."

“You know, I’d be kind of offended if my uncle nearly died and you  _ didn’t  _ care just because you’re not related.” 

It is obvious from her tone that Waverly is joking, but Nicole shakes her head all the same. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” Waverly says, “and no.” 

Nicole considers trying to explain, but realises she doesn’t know how to. Waverly does not push her for more. 

“As for crying now,” Waverly goes on after a silence extends for a moment, “you let the rest of us get upset when you probably wanted to as well. Don’t think we didn’t notice. You didn’t cry when I did, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still need to.”

This, Nicole decides, makes far more sense than the part where she tries to fathom out whether she deserves this grief. She still thinks that she doesn’t, but that won’t stop her feeling it anyway. 

There was so much in her head and it felt so full that it hurt, like it was a balloon straining against too much air. Like she was going to explode at any moment. 

Curtis was okay, but he almost wasn’t. Nicole could drive now, and Waverly had made her the dumbest, cheesiest card in existence. Waverly loves her and she loves Waverly back. And this is what family feels like. This is what family is; messy and painful, all heartache and fear because love makes you brave for those you care about, but it also makes you fearful of what you could lose. 

This is home - terrible handmade crafts that mean more than all the gold and jewels in the world, and the smell of Waverly’s jumper as Nicole sinks into the embrace of the girl she loves. The sound of the front door opening, Gus and Wynonna gently bickering and griping, stopping in their tracks and trying to fathom out the sight that meets them in the living room; Nicole and Waverly not quite sure if they are laughing hysterically or sobbing uncontrollably, an enthusiastic but unfortunate handmade card sat on the coffee table in front of them. 

* * *

Curtis stays in hospital for a number of weeks, and by the time they let him out the seasons have shifted to that uncertain, in between time nestled amongst spring and summer. The weather grows warmer and more humid, but it is still a little cooler than Nicole is used to, owing, she supposes, to the altitude.

Waverly  _ does _ put on a ‘you-passed-your-exam-and-you-got discharged’ party and she does, in fact, make party hats. They are more successful in some ways than the congratulations card. They are, however, less well received. 

Both Curtis and Nicole, as intended beneficiaries of the ‘party’, put on the hats with enthusiasm, Gus looks a little unsure, and Wynonna sighs and grumbles more than she did at Christmas, when she was forced to put on a purple paper crown. 

Curtis is still tired and still sleeps a lot, but he is not too tired for tiny triangle sandwiches made by Waverly, and a large slice of Gus’ homemade chocolate cake. In theory, Curtis has to make immediate changes to improve his overall health, but everyone - even Gus - turns a blind eye on that day. The five of them sit on the back porch in rickety, folding camping chairs, and they eat everything they want and sip on sweet fruit juice. 

It is strange, Curtis coming back while Nicole feels like he has never been gone at all. This place, for as much as it is  _ Waverly _ and Gus and Wynonna, is so much of who Curtis is in Nicole’s mind. He is always here, even when he was still in the hospital. He was here but he wasn't, always sitting quietly on the porch in the coldest of weather, staring out at the mountains in silent meditation. 

He is always in the paddocks and the stables and the greenhouses, always digging and planting and harvesting. He is always with the sweet peas and the tomatoes (now back outside thanks, in whole, to Nicole’s careful and self-conscious efforts in Curtis’ absence) and this will always, Nicole knows, be how she understands Curtis McCready. She understands him as the hum of the wind in the trees and echoing off the mountains, as the snow and now the sun on the grass. 

She wonders what it would have been like to sit here and stare out at the farm and know that Curtis wasn’t coming back. She wants to banish the thought quickly - it feels gratuitous and rather like shooting an albatross. On the other hand, however, she knows that these two ideas - the farm existing and Curtis never coming back - are complete oxymorons. They were not compatible. Even if he hadn’t made it…if he had...well, he would still have been here. He will always return, Nicole decides, for every sunset and every murmuration of starlings that will ever be. 

_ I will too _ , Nicole decides, feeling an acute sense of home like nothing she has ever known.  _ This is where I’ll return _ . 

And although the moment might just as well be an avalanche for Nicole, it passes everyone else by completely unnoticed. It makes her wonder if the feeling is even real; but it is so full and so buoyant that she doubts she could make it up. It is completely new, a hatchling, and Nicole is not quite sure she could invent something so utterly groundbreaking to her. But then, it also feels like the tree that falls with no one to hear it. She cannot  _ really _ be sure it made a real sound. 

Beside her, Waverly shifts closer and smiles up and Nicole. 

“Alright?” she whispers and Nicole smiles.

“Yeah,” she whispers back, knowing it is true. 

  
  


With prior consent from the family, a few of the Ghost River Triangle’s residents also call round to welcome Curtis home. He had not been particularly keen on receiving visitors while he was in the hospital but, even if this wasn’t the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else, the McCreadys were well-liked and respected, and it had been hard to keep track of all the well-wishers. 

A small gathering forms that afternoon; Shorty and his wife turn up, as do Mr and Mrs Yerby and their young kids (it was on their farm that Curtis was working when the heart attack struck), along with plenty of other people who Nicole must be introduced to. 

It has been a while since she has had to shake hands and announce her name and explain her presence here in the McCready’s house. For the first time, however, she doesn’t feel under scrutiny, and she doesn’t feel vulnerable and exposed and judged. In large part, this is because everyone is here for Curtis. However, it is also more nuanced than that, though Nicole cannot quite put her finger on what is so very different about this. 

She sits, a little while later, in the shade of the treehouse with Chrissy, whose father was present to catch up with Curtis, and Robin, who had asked the Sheriff for a ride here. 

“It’s weird,” Nicole concludes, when she explains her feelings to everyone. 

“I mean, not really,” Waverly counters. “You’re basically family now. Word gets round here and it’s not just the bad stuff. Everyone knows how much my aunt and uncle love you. Like I’ve said, they’d probably adopt you, except, well,” Waverly pauses and wrinkles her nose in distaste, “they’d better not because it’d be really weird.” 

“And if they don’t, my dad will,” Chrissy adds. “I honestly think he likes you better than me.” She laughs, and shows absolutely no insecurity whatsoever. 

“That’s obviously not true.” 

Chrissy shrugs, still laughing. “He tells just as many people how great you are.” 

“I don’t know how to feel really that I went from having a shitty, non-existent dad to having two like, really good ones.” 

“Hey,” Waverly interjects, voice a warning shot, “do  _ not _ say that about Curtis, I can’t deal with it.” 

“If it helps, my dad probably  _ won’t _ adopt you,” Robin adds. “But then again, he’d probably be shot of  _ me  _ if he could.” 

Like Chrissy, he grins and shows no real sadness regarding his comment. In truth, all four of them carry the scars of loving too much or not being loved enough, but they have each other now, and that is what counts. Both Chrissy and Robin had delighted in seeing Curtis back in the house and looking so well - all things considered. He is clearly still weak and fatigued, but he is getting there. 

Zoning in on Waverly’s comments, Chrissy pokes her tongue out and says, “yeah, how  _ do _ you deal with making out with your uncle’s third adopted kid?” 

“Can we  _ please _ not,” Waverly cries, far more insecure about this particular situation than Nicole herself. After all, Nicole is in her own head and she knows how she feels about Gus and Curtis. Undeniably, they have become parental figures to her in some way, but it is far more complex for her than that. Thoughts of parents will always carry connotations of the two people who simply did not love her. The McCreadys  _ did _ love her, and she loved them back, and in honesty she didn’t really know  _ how _ she thought of them. Not really parents, not really an aunt and uncle, just two people who believed in her enough to let her grow and succeed. 

For Waverly, however, Gus and Curtis are the people who took her and Wynonna in, and they’re the people who took Nicole in too. Other kids on the program were young enough to come and go, eventually moving back out again to other, more dependable family members, or to more permanent foster carers. Nicole, however, is old enough to grow into adulthood under the McCreadys’ tutelage, and so, probably, to Waverly, it feels different. Waverly is adamant that the McCreadys are different around Nicole and, with no other point of reference, Nicole has no choice but to believe her. All the same, she protests the point sometimes, and she does so again to Chrissy.

“I’m also  _ not _ the third adopted kid.”

Waverly adds, “I’m not even the second, it’s not like my aunt and uncle literally adopted me or Wynonna.” 

“It’s different with you,” Chrissy says, ignoring Waverly altogether. “No amount of you denying it will change it.”

“There’s no point doing this,” Waverly says to Chrissy, poking Nicole in the side. “I try literally all the time.” 

“I just don’t think - ” Nicole tries.

“It  _ is _ different to be fair,” Robin chimes in. 

“No one asked you,” Nicole jokes, kicking at Robin’s leg. 

“ _ I  _ asked him,” Chrissy counters.

Nicole snorts. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, no. But I was going to.” 

“ _ Thanks _ ,” Robin says sarcastically. “I feel super valued now.” 

“As you should,” Chrissy jokes back, ignoring Robin’s sarcasm altogether. 

Nicole lays back on the long, cool grass before she can get sucked into any real bickering. She stares up at the lazy, wispy clouds and lets the peace of the afternoon wash over her. 

Everything is perfect again. Everything is going to be okay. 

  
  
  
  


That night, Waverly and Nicole sneak out to the treehouse at midnight.

“How  _ do _ you think of us,” Waverly asks afterwards, “you know, in relation to Gus and Curtis?” 

“Is this really the time?” Nicole drags her fingers a little more firmly across Waverly’s bare shoulder as if to prove a point, before resuming drawing soft, glancing circles on Waverly’s skin instead. They have been like this for a while, a single blanket pulled up to their collars, both of them staring up at the wooden ceiling. 

“No,” Waverly concedes. Then, after a long pause, she turns to face Nicole, grinning impishly, and demands, “well?” 

Nicole chuckles, looking away from rafters and tilting her head. She and Waverly are close, their skin still warm and tingly. 

“I really don’t know,” she admits. “They’re family and they’re also sort of not, because ‘family’ never really meant anything good to me until all of you guys.” 

Waverly smiles and presses a kiss to the tip of Nicole’s nose, so light that Nicole barely feels it.

“That’s not an answer,” she whispers, the corners of her eyes crinkling. 

“I don’t know,” Nicole says, shrugging the shoulder she is not laying on. “In-laws?” 

She means this as a joke, as a way of teasing Waverly, but it doesn’t actually seem so absurd once the words have settled. Waverly hears her tone and rolls her eyes, prodding and pinching lightly at the soft skin of Nicole’s belly in mock retaliation. They end the discussion there but the idea sits with Nicole until they dress and creep back inside.

As ever, Waverly drifts to sleep first, and Nicole soon follows, but her head is buzzing with the idea of what kind of family the McCreadys really are to her. 

It kind of seems a fitting assessment, because despite the stereotypes, two families often come together to form one and, often, it just  _ works _ . 

  
  
  
  


“Gus will kill you if she sees.”

Curtis visibly jumps, and Nicole panics that she is going to cause him to have another heart attack. She had thought she was being loud and that he would have heard her. 

She rushes to Curtis' side. “Are you okay? Should I get someone?” 

Curtis waves a trowel at her in a dismissive gesture. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’ll take more than that to finish me off.” 

“I take it ‘more than that’ equals Gus finding you working.” 

Curtis laughs loudly. “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole says, growing serious. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“Well,” Curtis says, turning back to the flower beds. “You didn’t know I was here.” 

“You  _ shouldn’t _ be,” Nicole points out, crossing her arms and trying to be stern. 

Curtis turns back to her, raises his eyebrows in a gesture that is remarkably reminiscent of Waverly, and simply stares Nicole down. 

“Okay,” Nicole concedes eventually. “Can I at least help you?” 

“Keep an eye on me?” Curtis questions, but he doesn’t sound put out or annoyed.

“A bit of both?” Nicole tries, raising her shoulders.

Curtis chuckles. “How about you can stay? I’ve been cooped up for ages, and this is far from strenuous.”

He has been back for two weeks, and is practically climbing the walls with boredom. He still suffers from soreness in his chest where the incision must be scarring over slowly, and extreme fatigue and tiredness, but it is obvious that sitting around and doing nothing is driving him nuts. 

So, figuring that it was better that he at least had someone to make sure he wasn’t overdoing things, Nicole sits down smoothly on the patch of bright emerald grass next to Curtis’ flowerbeds. He is mostly hidden from view here by a rickety wooden trellis that is probably only still standing thanks to all the ivy wrapped around it and keeping it from collapsing into a pile of splinters. 

She watches as he kneels on a mat and aerates the soil around his beloved flowers with a handheld garden fork. He pulls up some unwanted weeds and foreign invaders as he goes, depositing them in a compost bag.

In some places, Curtis seems to be a fan of the whole rewilding movement, letting areas simply expand and grow as the earth sees fit. In others, his vegetables and flowers are sacrosanct. Here, a bed of rather determined fuschias receives his full care and attention. No other tenants are allowed in the flowerbeds. The fuschia flowers are out in full force, some already open in an explosion of colour, others with the petals closed into fat little pods. As a child, Nicole had been fascinated by the ones that grew outside her grandmother’s home. Unaware of how cruel and destructive it could be, she had always popped the unopened pink parcels. Her grandmother had smacked her hands every time she caught Nicole reaching out for her beloved fuschias, and she suspects that the recourse from Curtis would be even worse should she try the same trick now. 

There is something so tempting, however, about the young flowers and the way that Nicole knows they sound and feel beneath her fingers.

Ignoring the temptation, she turns to Curtis. “You will stop if you don’t feel right, won’t you?” 

“I thought you  _ weren’t _ going to fuss over me,” he jokes.

“I seem to recall refusing to make any promises.” 

Curtis chuckles and then sighs to himself softly, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a thoughtful, absent sort of way. 

“I gave you all such a scare, didn’t I? I don’t want to worry you now too. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault, so you don’t have to be sorry.” 

“Not the first part, maybe, but you’re right, I shouldn’t be doing this yet.” 

To Nicole’s immense surprise, he downs tools and shifts on the grown until he is sitting, rather than kneeling, on the gardening mat. 

Catching the concerned look on her face he adds hastily, “I feel perfectly fine, honestly. But I don’t want to put you all through any more, even if that  _ is _ just worrying about me pulling up a few weeds.” 

“I don’t mean to.” 

“It’s kind that you do. Believe it or not,” Curtis says, dropping his voice as if imparting a great secret, “I actually appreciate it. I appreciate that you cared.” 

“It was more than just caring. I was scared,” Nicole confesses eventually. “I tried not to be, but I was. I don’t think I’m going to make a very good cop, if I still get scared like that.”

She thinks back to that moment in the hospital bathroom, hanging onto the precipice of rationality and about to drop into the abyss of pure panic. 

Taken aback by just how seriously Nicole is clearly taking this, Curtis asks, “you’re not thinking of changing your mind are you? Nedley tells me you’re doing so well.” 

“I don’t know,” Nicole says. “I’m not  _ really _ considering a change, but it’s made me wonder.” 

“Gus said you seemed, in her words, a hundred times calmer than she felt.” 

“I didn’t feel calm.” 

“But you acted calmly. Isn’t that the main thing?”

“I guess so.” For a moment, Nicole is reminded of her early days in Purgatory, when getting her to talk was a little like getting blood out of a stone. 

For a little while after Curtis’ heart attack, Nicole had felt somewhat like that person again. 

“Hey,” Curtis says, putting a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment before withdrawing it again. Nicole feels the weight of it even after it has gone. “It’s okay if this has shaken you up. It’s shaken us all up, me included.” 

“I’m okay, really. And it’s not about me anyway. It’s about you, and your family. I just wanted to be here for everyone, that’s why I tried to stay calm and keep it together.”

“And yet you mean to tell me that you really, truly don’t think you’ll be a very good cop? Isn’t what you did for Gus exactly what a good cop should do in a crisis?”

Nicole gives him a small smile. “Yeah, I guess it is.” 

“I know for a fact that Gus is still extremely proud of the way all of you conducted yourselves that day, but I think your behaviour really stuck with her, Nicole.” 

Nicole feels a jolt of shock. “It did?” 

“It certainly seems to have. She’s told me, more than once actually, how hard you took the news. She could see it on your face. But you thought of everyone else and you looked after them. You were _brave_, and very strong. I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for a while, but with all your schoolwork and with me being so damn tired, I haven’t been able to.” 

“You don’t have to,” Nicole says, “talk about it, I mean. It’s not something I necessarily feel like I have to, you know, get out there or anything.” 

The fear of losing Curtis, or any of them, isn’t something she can really exorcise. The acute sharpness needling away Curtis’ scare seemed so tangible and had taken a while to die down, as had the residual anxiety. But, when it came down to it, she was always going to worry, at least a little bit, about the people she loved. 

“Actually, if it’s not something you actively don’t want to talk about, I think there’s a few things that need to be said.”

Nicole nods. “Okay. Sure.” 

“Firstly, I feel the need to flog the same unresponsive - I refuse to believe it’s completely dead - horse and tell you that you’re allowed to carve out space for your own feelings too.”

Nicole laughs where once she would have felt defensive and overexposed to Curtis' scrutiny. 

“I know. I knew it at the time. But I wanted to look after everyone else. It’s, I guess, it’s one of my ways of coping. But it’s short term now, I swear. Or, I’m getting to that point.” 

“I know,” Curtis says, and he sounds as though he genuinely believes her. “It’s not as though my wife isn’t somewhat the same.” 

Nicole laughs again. Gus’ definition of coping mechanism was certainly to keep busy. 

“Mostly,” Curtis goes on, “I just want to say thank you.” 

“You do?” Nicole asks. When Curtis nods, she adds, “I didn’t do anything.” 

“That’s not how Gus sees it. It’s not how I see it, either. What you did, uh,” Curtis pauses and Nicole is surprised to hear his voice grow thick. “The way you stepped up. Well. I’m proud of you, I really am. And grateful, too. There’s no one I’d trust more to take care of my wife, or my nieces, and I mean that.”

Nicole glances to the ground, fingers pulling up a few blades of grass. They blur as tears clog her vision. “I always will. All three of them. I promise.” 

“Nicole…”

“And I’ll let them take care of me too, I swear. I’m getting better at it.” 

“I know. I see it every day. But still, for now at least, it’s my job to take care of you all.” 

Nicole shakes her head. “You guys gave me everything. Everything good I have is here now. You did it for free but I’m still paying you back. For as long as you guys want me to. Even when I go to college.”

“You’ll always have a place here Nicole. This doesn’t finish when high school does. Not for me or for Gus.”

“Can I still come back here?” Nicole asks, voicing a question that has been at the back of her mind for a week or two. She blinks a few times to clear away her tears. There has been enough crying here for a while. “Like, just in the holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas. I won't impose, I swear.”

“You can come back here every weekend if you like. This is your home now, if that’s what you want.” 

Nicole does not have to say anything because they both know the truth. 

It is what she wants. 

It’s all she’s ever really wanted. 

  
  


* * *

In the weeks that follow, school seems to whittle down to nothing, and classes become more frantic as final exams loom. Nicole throws herself into soccer, determined to get a scholarship for college now that she has decided to study in Calgary, money permitting. 

If her closeness with the McCreadys and the Earps wasn’t enough, Curtis’ health scare had cemented her decision. The city was a couple of hours away by bus or car, and if Nicole can get some kind of funding and pick up a job, she might even be able to buy herself a cheap runaround eventually. 

The idea that Curtis could have had his heart attack while she was hundreds of miles away shakes her up, and after all that he and Gus have done for her, she wants to always be on hand to pay them back. If something happens, she wants to be able to come back to the farm and help Gus with the horses, or take over some shifts with Waverly at the bar. 

And, of course, the other deciding factor was Waverly herself. Not seeing her every day will suck, even if Nicole can grudgingly acknowledge that it is probably a good and necessary test of the relationship. 

Waverly, as it happens, continues to surprise everyone by refusing a spot at college that year, so they will not be too far away. 

“Oh, I’m definitely going to college at some point,” she says when Gus presses the matter one evening, insisting that Waverly should not let her potential go to waste. “But I want to work a year first. I’m still not totally sure about my major, and I’d rather grow up a bit and  _ know _ , than just pick something and end up regretting it.” 

Privately, Nicole thinks it is a great idea, but Gus is in an overzealous moment that is not worth challenging. 

“You’ve always said about your History, love, and I think you’d do brilliantly if you majored in that.”

Gus is not trying to push, not really. She just wants Waverly to believe in herself as much as she, Gus, does. 

Waverly knows this too, and as such retains her patience.  “That’s probably what I’ll go for, and I’ve got plans to do some online courses first, if I can afford it. But I want this year, for me.”

This, Nicole knows, is code for ‘I want some more time to keep researching what happened to my family’, because Waverly is so far from ending that chapter of her story, and she needs to know the truth. Here, in Purgatory, she can research in the library. In Calgary, Nicole will have access to the school library and will probably be drafted in as assistant researcher from time to time. She doesn’t mind - she is still quite flattered by Waverly’s trust.

“I’ll help you out with your courses,” Curtis chimes in from across the kitchen table. "Money wise, I mean."

Both Waverly and Gus look at him closely, albeit for different reasons. 

_ We’re trying to convince her to go to college _ , Nicole imagines Gus silently telling him. 

“You do more than enough for me,” Waverly says aloud. “I don’t want to take even more from you.  I’ll fund the online courses, and I’ll see about college next year, maybe I can get a scholarship like Nicole.”

“Please, don’t jinx it.” 

“You’re gonna be  _ fine _ ,” Waverly says, rolling her eyes. 

“Where will you go to study?” Gus asks, trying and failing to sound casual. 

It must be tough for her, Nicole reasons. 

Nicole herself will be gone soon, grades permitting, and Wynonna has been batting around the idea of going travelling for a little while. With Waverly eventually leaving to study too, it would be a big adjustment for Gus. 

“Probably not far,” Waverly says with a shrug. Nicole knows her love/hate relationship with Purgatory. It is something, Nicole thinks, only people who have lived their whole life in a small, isolated place can truly understand. Others might feel it for their big towns or cities, but it is still different somehow. Nicole understands it a little, but as summer spreads its warm palms around them, she has finally fully fallen in love with the place. There is talk of rock climbing classes starting up nearby during the summer vacation, and Nicole has already coaxed a promise out of Waverly that they can go as far as some nearby lakes to explore and maybe take a swim. There may be camping involved too, although Waverly does not know that yet. 

All the same (and distaste for too much of the outdoors notwithstanding) Nicole knows that Waverly loves her family too much to stray too far for too long. 

“Well,” Gus says, “if you go to the city you could live with Nicole.” 

Both girls freeze, momentarily unnoticed by the rest of the family as everyone concentrates on eating dinner. 

Nicole and Waverly share a look, both of them with dessert spoons halfway to their mouths.

When they say nothing, Gus glances up and they both do terrible jobs of looking nonchalant.

“I mean, I guess,” Waverly says, and it is the worst piece of acting Nicole has ever seen in her life. Gus raises her eyebrows, evidently not convinced either. “Nicole might have a new group of friends by then, there might not be space for me to jump in at the last minute.” 

No one around the table believes her at all. Where Waverly is concerned, they all know that Nicole would make space. 

  
  
  
  


“Why don’t all of you head out for a bit while the weather is still nice?” Curtis asks when the meal is done. “I do nothing all day, so I can wash up. Make the most of the sun, and your vacation.”

This is aimed at Nicole and Waverly, who are on their last ever high school vacation, not counting the proper summer break. Once they return to school, it will be exam time and there will be no peace or quiet for a while. 

“We can help,” Waverly says, although she once again does not sound convincing. 

“I can’t,” Wynonna quips, but Curtis laughs and shakes his head.

“You go, I can handle a few plates.” 

Gus stands and claps her hands, “go on. Since my husband has offered his services, that means I’ll be helping out too. You all go and enjoy yourselves.”

Before any further debate can break out, Wynonna escapes to her room, and Waverly and Nicole head out into the backyard. 

The sun is starting its descent to the horizon, and the whole world seems to be on fire. 

Nicole and Waverly have spent more or less every waking moment out in this garden over the past week. They have found endless things to talk about, had stupid games and competitions, and Waverly had even insisted they shore up the old swing set that Curtis had never had the heart to throw away. 

The old, corroded metal frame gives in on the first attempt, so they go full stereotype and hang an old tractor tyre from the tree. Waverly spends half their afternoons insisting Nicole push her, and the other half trying to fight Nicole off when she tries to claim her rightful place on the tyre. 

That evening, however, they simply mill about, Nicole kicking at her soccer ball and doing a few tricks while Waverly tries to distract her. They play fight and scuffle when Nicole is denied her thirtieth consecutive kick-up thanks to some particularly foul play from Waverly. This is how they find themselves acting on numerous occasions, always half-forgetting that they have an act to keep up. 

Unbeknownst to the two girls, with very little else to do but continue with his regime of resting and recuperating after completing the arduous task of washing a few dishes, Curtis McCready sits at the kitchen table and watches them from the window. 

He has found himself doing so a lot in recent days, finding the girls’ happiness infectious. He feels grateful for all the extra joy his family frequently brings. 

More often than not, when she is not working or directing others’ efforts on the farm, Gus joins him. She stands behind him, rests her hands on his shoulders, drops her chin to the top of his head. They watch together, both of them smiling at how the girls have grown into themselves during these past months. 

Most of the time, the McCreadys don’t speak. They have reached a point where words are, if anything, a hindrance to the real communication that passes, silent and stealthy, between them.

One day, however, Gus, watching Waverly and Nicole together, asks, “do you think they - ”

“Perhaps,” Curtis says. 

“And do you think we should - ”

“Absolutely not.” 

Gus would not have had it any other way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please let me know below what you think, or otherwise catch me on twitter. 
> 
> Take care until next time!


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